Mistrunner 3 - Chapter 36 - The Bones of the Past (Patreon)

I never expected my life to end up like this. After my mom died and I started riding along with Remy, I thought I’d follow in his footsteps. We both did. But then he died, and I had to scramble for some way to stay relevant. I was so terrified Mira would leave me behind that I just went along with her plans. I still don’t know if it was the right choice.

Patrick Ward

A day later, I set the Leviathan down about a hundred miles from the E’rok Tan base. I might’ve been able to get closer – Patrick certainly could have, with his abilities – but I didn’t want to chance being seen. So, after making sure that the ship’s defenses were up, I used Bastion to ensure that it would be protected. After Alistaris’s intrusion, it would have been easy to mistrust my ability, but I chose to focus on the fact that, over the past couple of years, it done its job flawlessly. There was little reason to suspect that it wouldn’t continue to do so.

Besides, I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Not if I wanted to do what I’d come to do, at least.

Once the ship’s defenses were up, I started toward the remnants of an old highway I’d seen from the air. When I reached it, I summoned the Cutter and was on my way. The going was a little rough, mostly owing to the poor condition of the wide road. About an hour after leaving the ship, I pulled to a stop before a giant skeleton draped across the road.

The bones were black, with some sort of silvery metal twisting through them. Whatever animal it had once been was huge – at least a hundred feet long and probably twice that in height – which made it one of the largest creatures I’d ever encountered. Thankfully, it was long dead, without an ounce of meat left on the bones. Still, I could tell from the state of the skeleton that it had not died a peaceful death. So, I wasted no time before backtracking and going around. Even so, I didn’t relax even a little bit until I’d left it far behind.

The next obstacle I found was a canyon that cut straight through the road. It was at least fifty feet deep and half-again that wide, so I had to dismount and climb down and then back up before I could continue on my way. It was a curious thing – the E’rok Tan base was situated on a sizable plain, which meant that the ravine probably wasn’t natural. I wasn’t sure if some great creature had torn the earth asunder or if humans – or aliens – were responsible, but I wasn’t eager to find out.

Over the next fifty miles or so, I encountered a few more obstructions, and I saw the remnants of the civilization that had once sprawled over the area. A few times, I saw small clusters of low-slung buildings that had likely once housed restaurants or fueling stations, but they had been rendered unrecognizable by the passage of time. It made for a forlorn sight, those buildings. Had they once flourished? Had people once taken them for granted? What had happened to the proprietors? I knew from my uncle’s stories that most of the population had died when the Initialization had begun, so I knew there were unlikely to be any happy stories associated with the abandoned buildings. But still, I wanted to believe that the people had escaped. That they had survived. Perhaps their descendants lived in cities like Fortune or what was left of Nova City.

But probably not.

In any case, I maintained focus as well as I could until I finally reached a position about five miles away from E’rok Tan base. There, I dismounted the Cutter, embraced Stealth, and left the road behind. Traveling cross country was slow going, but I felt it was necessary in case the aliens had posted sentries at the obvious points of ingress. Along the way, I passed a few beasts – like a pack of wolves – but due to my abilities, they never knew I was there. A couple of hours later, just as the sun had begun to set, I finally reached my destination.

The abandoned amusement park was even creepier than it looked on the maps and photos I’d been provided. Some of that was due to the failing light, but even if it had been in the light of day, I think it would have still been just as eerie, albeit in a different way. I quickly found a stand of thick vegetation and settled down for some surveillance.

For hours, I remained motionless as I watched the derelict park, my eyes tracing the tubular lines of what I thought must have been roller coasters. If I would have encountered such a sight even two years before, I would’ve had no idea what I was looking at. However, Patrick had a habit of dragging me to new places, and only six months before, he’d taken me to a more modern version of an amusement park.

That had been a good day filled with laughter and fun.

Looking out at the abandoned ruins, I had a hard time believing that anyone had ever said the same thing about it.

Then, I heard one of the most disturbing sounds I’d ever heard in my life. There are a multitude of kinds of laughter. Giggles. Chuckles. Cackles. When Patrick laughed – like really let loose with it – he had a habit of letting out a cute, little snort. The laughter that echoed through that ruined amusement park was different, though. The moment the sound hit my ears, a chill went up my spine and my pulse quickened. A second later, I heard the staccato rhythm of gunfire, and the volume of the laughter increased. Then, suddenly, the gunfire ceased.

The laughter remained.

I swallowed hard, but I continued to watch. Throughout the rest of that night, I didn’t hear another peep, but the memory was enough to engender caution. My packet hadn’t said anything about whatever had made that sound, and I had no interest in confronting it unless I knew precisely what I was dealing with.

After dawn, I started feeling a little silly. I was a powerful warrior. A Tier-7 who’d spent countless hours training. I had superhuman attributes and a high-tech arsenal to back it up. I had nothing to fear. But every time those thoughts crept into my mind, the memory of that laugh returned.

So, I remained in place throughout the day, only taking breaks for food and biological necessities. I could go without sleep for quite some time, and I had no interest in resting until I figured out what I was dealing with.

Thankfully – or regretfully, depending on how I wanted to look at it – I got my first glimpse of the creature that next night when it ambled into my line of sight. At first, I only saw colorful fabric and a tall, lanky form before it once again disappeared into the derelict amusement park. But even that short glimpse was enough to make me want to abandon the mission altogether.

And when I got my second look, I almost turned tail and ran right then and there.

It happened when a patrol of hulking E’rok Tan warriors strode into view. Each one clutched a rifle in one pair of arms while their second pair of arms remained free. There were seven of them, each muscular enough to make Nora look like a slacker.

Whatever power they had in those muscles was not nearly enough.

The creature swept in like a particolored nightmare, all long, skeletal limbs and flashing claws. The first E’rok Tan warrior fell before any of them ever even knew what was happening. Even as the warrior collapsed to the ground, its throat nearly severed by the force behind those claws, the creature faded into the shadows, leaving on that horrifying laughter behind. When the remaining warriors started to panic, I didn’t blame them.

Because I had finally gotten a good look at the thing.

I knew it was a wildling, but one unlike any I’d ever seen before. For one, it wasn’t naked. Instead, it wore loose-fitting, colorful clothing that would’ve been more at home on a children’s entertainer than draped over the elongated and emaciated body of a monstrous humanoid.

The concept of a clown wasn’t new to me. Though I’d never seen one in real life, they were a ubiquitous presence on the entertainment feeds I’d favored growing up. Sometimes, they were portrayed as fun-loving comic relief, but in the sorts of shows I never told Jeremiah I was watching, they were something decidedly different. It hadn’t been a surprise to discover that many people had a phobia concerning the seemingly innocent performers.

Still, I’d never expected to encounter anything that lived up to those people’s fears.

But as always, expectations often ran counter to reality. The evidence of that was the scene playing out right in front of me.

One of the warriors whipped around, firing into the shadows. Predictably, it hit nothing but the dilapidated ruins of an old carousel. But the distraction gave the wildling clown the opening it needed to eviscerate one of the other warriors. Of course, that brought more panicked fire from the remaining E’rok Tan.

Like that, the clown slowly picked them apart. One by one, they fell until only two remained. They looked at one another for a long moment before one seemed to reach a conclusion. It raised its rifle and fired, oblitering the knee of its fellow warrior before sprinting away.

It only got about twenty feet before the clown struck again, hamstringing the traitorous E’rok Tan. It mewled like a wounded animal, but its cries were only met with more cackling laughter before the clown finished it off. Finally, it turned its sights on the final remaining warrior, who was clutching its leg to try to stem the bleeding.

To its credit, the E’rok Tan managed to raise its weapon and fire, taking the wildling clown in the chest. But it had no noticeable effect.

The clown approached, swaying back and forth as if dancing to some music only it could hear. The E’rok Tan warrior fired again, but it did just as little good as the first shot. Still, the clown swayed forward until, at last, it reached its prey.

I watched in horror as the creature ripped the warrior apart, limb by limb.

And then, finally, everything went quiet.

That’s when the feasting began.

More wildlings – tiny things that must’ve only been three or four feet tall – poured out of the brush and fell upon the still-warm corpses. Each of them were dressed similarly to the clown, almost as if it had been miniaturized.

Their appetites certainly hadn’t shrunk, though.

Once, when Patrick and I had been camping on a tropical beach, I had seen a swarm of tiny fish – minnows, really – attack a whale. Thousands of them, tearing into the whale with vicious enthusiasm until there was nothing left but diluted blood.

That’s what the tiny clowns reminded me of, and it was just as disturbing as it sounds.

It only took them a few minutes to completely devour the E’rok Tan warriors. They didn’t leave anything behind. Not their bones. Not their clothing. Even their weapons were food for the clowns. And then, just like that, they scattered. Only the tall, lanky wildling that was their leader remained.

And it was looking right at me.

A wide grin slowly crept across its face. Then, it raised one hand, palm up, crooked a finger, and beckoned for me to come.

My heart stopped. I didn’t dare breathe. I could only stand there, staring.

I wasn’t afraid because the wildling had seen me. Over the years, I’d learned to never underestimate anything that could survive life in the wilderness. And wildlings were usually at the top of the food chain. More, they often displayed strange abilities. Once, I’d seen one that could glide through the air like it had wings. Another time, I’d encountered one that could, for a short time, wreathe itself in flames. They were wild, vicious creatures with unpredictable abilities.

But none of them were intelligent.

Or so I’d thought.

That the clown appeared otherwise was a horrifying prospect, and not just because it had clearly enjoyed picking those E’rok Tan warriors apart. It had tormented them, maliciously and with obvious intent. And it had clearly enjoyed it, as well.

Given what the E’rok Tan had done, there was a part of me that considered it justice. However, it didn’t take me long to recognize the dangers posed by an intelligent wildling. They were already powerful. But there was also a viciousness to them that I can scarcely articulate. As I knelt there, watching the ruins, I was reminded of what had happened to Heather. Before the Edgar Russo had gotten ahold of her, she had been a completely nonviolent person. But after? She had changed, so much so that the rage had completely overwhelmed everything else. When I had to put her down, I looked into her eyes, and I saw nothing left of the woman she had been.

If wildlings evolved into thinking creatures, they would sweep across the world, killing everything in their path. Humans. Aliens. Animals. It wouldn’t matter. They would only stop if someone killed them all.

There were plenty of philosophical questions there. What right did I have to condemn a creature to death? Doing so made me no different than the aliens I routinely killed. But the bottom line was that, while the threat seemed minor right now, there was every chance that, if left unchecked, it would grow into something far more serious. When that happened, it would be a them or us sort of war.

And as always, I chose the path that would see me living another day.

So, kneeling there behind those bushes, I decided to make a little addition to my plan. I still intended to kill the E’rok Tan, but I needed to take out the clown – or clowns – too. So, I started putting together some ideas on how to accomplish that.

It took me another two days – and a few sightings of the wildling clowns – before I felt prepared for my hunt. Just as I was mentally readying myself to stalk the creature and kill it, I heard a cackling peal of laughter echoing through the forest.

It seemed that, while I was watching it, it had been watching me, too. And it had completed its preparations before me.

Fear stalked up my spine as I shot to my feet. I was just about to take off at a dead sprint whenever I realized what was going on. That laughter – it wasn’t just there for creepy ambiance. And it certainly wasn’t a display of mirth. Rather, it was an ability, albeit a strange one.

Suddenly, everything clicked together. The E’rok Tan weren’t as disorganized and panic-prone as I’d first thought. Instead, they’d been subjected to the wildling clown’s ability, which had flooded their bodies with terror, prompting a panicked response.

And I had very nearly fallen pretty to the very same thing.

Only a second later, the rangy clown – it was at least nine-feet tall, thin to the point of emaciation, and equipped with a set of elongated claws that capped each finger – burst through the brush in a whirlwind of motion. But then, it suddenly stopped and sniffed the air. My heart was pounding out of my chest, but I refused to move. Instead, I studied the creature. White paint – or perhaps that was its natural coloring – streaked its bestial, blood-smeared face, and it moved with jerky, sudden movements.

It stood there, head tilted back and sniffing the air, for a long few moments before it let out another peal of laughter. The cackling sound echoed through my brain, demanding that I run from the predator, but I clamped down on that urge with as much willpower as I could manage. Even as my every muscle screamed for release, I remained still and shrouded in my pair of concealment abilities.

The clown let out another, much louder cackle.

My knuckles whitened, and my muscles trembled with need as I forced myself to remain still. I had never felt such terror in all my life. Not when I saw that world-eating serpent in the spider Rift. Not when Nova City was falling apart beneath my very feet. It was all-encompassing and powerful enough to send tears running down my cheeks.

But I didn’t move.

The clown was clearly confused and just as obviously incapable of detecting me beneath my layers of concealment. Still, it let out a few more cackles before moving on.

I still didn’t move.

Not until the sun rose did I feel even a modicum of security.

As soon as I did, I retreated. For miles, I slipped through the woods, barely noticing my surroundings, until I finally reached one of those clusters of buildings I’d passed on the way in. I found the most intact one, swept it for life, and then found the most secure area I could. That’s when I erected all of my defenses.

First came the holographic display. Then, a pair of auto-turrets that were just small enough to fit in my arsenal implant. And finally, I canceled the Bastion I had on the Leviathan before reapplying it to my current location.

Only then did I relax.

That’s when the tears of frustration came. It was as if the stress that had built up throughout that seemingly endless night all came bubbling up at one time. And I couldn’t stop myself from weeping. Nor did I try.

Sometimes, a few tears are what’s necessary for a person to move on.

Soon enough, though, the residual fear turned to anger. At myself, for being weak. At the clown for putting me in such a vulnerable position. And at the E’rok Tan for not being strong enough to secure their own location.

By the time I recovered, I was furious. And determined to turn the tables on that damnable clown. To that end, I adjusted my plans and, once I was satisfied, I allowed myself to rest.

That afternoon, I dreamed of a horde of wildling clowns descending on me and eating me alive. It was not a pleasant night, but by the time I awoke, I was ready to face them. If not because I thought it needed to be done, then so that I could face my own demons.