Act IV: Concerning the Dual Journeys of a Knight and his Dream Self
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Campaign
"You almost what?" Theo asked me, nearly pausing Left 4 Dead to make sure he'd heard me right. I was barely able to understand him through the mouthful of white cheddar popcorn that he was chewing. "Almost had to kill your own consorts?"
"Well it's not like I would've wanted to kill them," I protested, mashing the left trigger of my xbox controller, spamming melee to keep the latest swarm of Infected at bay while I reloaded my M16. I was playing as Bill—you had to use an M16 if you're playing as Bill. I mean, come on! "And I'm not talking about all my consorts—just the leaders of the desert dudes. They were on the verge of putting me back on that sacrificial slab! What, you think I should've just let them kill me?"
"Well, no, but… I mean…" Theo shrugged. "Man, your consorts are assholes."
"At least mine didn't throw me off a mountain."
"Oh, 'cuz being forced to climb a ladder made of swords is so much more enjoyable," my best friend shot back.
Okay, he had me there. "Yeah, you're right; my consorts are assholes," I chuckled. "I guess we just go hand in hand—TANK! Motherfucking tank!" I shouted suddenly, cutting myself off midsentence. We were playing through Dead Air—the Left 4 Dead campaign that took us through an airport—and everything had been going swimmingly…until the gut-wrenching music cue of the Tank shattered the relative quiet of the Infected-filled airport. I barely had time to move my character to safety before a giant slab of concrete came hurling towards me out of the darkness.
"'Course the Tank comes now, right after I used up my first-aid kit…" Theo muttered. He finished reloading his automatic shotgun and started to go after the Tank…only to walk right into the Boomer that was hiding just around the corner. The horribly obese special Infected vomited in his face, blinding Theo's character with its zombie-attracting green bile. To make matters worse, Theo instinctively fired his weapon at the Boomer, causing it to explode, disorienting Theo's character even further.
Theo got completely swarmed by the Infected. Even though he spammed melee to keep the Infected at arm's length, he was completely surrounded—melee only knocked back the Infected in front of you, not the ones behind you or to your sides. Before long, he went down, incapacitated. And during all this, the Tank incapacitated Zoey and Francis—the other two characters who were controlled by the computer—and came after me. I unloaded my entire magazine on the big fucker, but it wasn't enough. The Tank caught up with me and ended up smacking my character down to the other end of the corridor, far enough to incapacitate me just by hitting the floor.
That left all four characters incapacitated, which lost us the game. We'd have to restart from the beginning of this level, now.
"Aw, motherfucker!" Theo swore, tossing a handful of popcorn at the TV. "We were almost at the safehouse, too! Goddamn Boomers…"
"Yeah, that was complete bullshit," I readily agreed, doing my best to hide a smile. It always cracked me up how flustered Theo would sometimes get when he ended up being the reason why we lost a game. "So, we gonna do Blood Harvest next? Or Death Toll? We haven't done Death Toll in a while..."
"Naw, man," Theo shook his head. "The King's due back from his patrol any minute-"
As if on cue, two loud hornblasts rang out from the near distance, echoing off the walls of the White Keep and the rest of the castle below. I set down my Xbox controller and walked over to the window that faced the direction of the castle's main gate. Sure enough, I could see the vast, looming shape of the prototyped White King approaching the Keep from the west.
I'd learned from Theo that the alteration of the Prospitian and Dersite monarchs' physical form had something to do with our kernelsprites. The Queens drew their power through their rings, while the Kings got their mojo from their scepters. And they received a massive power boost while wielding their items of power…but the catch—at least, I thought it was a catch—was that their appearance took on certain attributes of whatever we had prototyped our kernelsprites with before entry into the incipisphere. And as I studied the White King in his prototyped form, I could pick out what those characteristics were.
I mean, I prototyped my kernelsprite with my Roman eagle, so the White King had wings. At first I thought the wings were from Cass's dragonsprite, but upon closer inspection I could tell that the wings were very clearly eagle wings. No, Cass's prototyping of her dragon sculpture was the reason why the White King occasionally breathed fire. And Theo's sprite, prototyped with his Subject Delta Big Daddy figurine, from Bioshock 2, resulted in the King having a massive drill in the place of a left hand. I could see the different physical traits from all the sprites…except Gino's. All Gino's prototyping seemed to have accomplished was to make the White King smell like pizza.
But I digress…
Theo and I didn't bother heading down the corridors to the transportalizer room. Instead, we both jumped out the windows and simply floated down to the steps leading up to the White Keep's entrance. That was where we'd met the King the last few times he's returned from doing God knows what out in the far reaches of the Battlefield.
The Prospitian Royal Guardsmen stationed at the entrance had no reaction to our sudden arrival, but that was normal for them. I don't think I've ever once heard a royal guard speak. They had a job to do, and that obviously didn't involve displaying emotions. Theo and I were left standing there, twiddling our thumbs until the White King showed up.
"So, you never told me how your consorts decided to let you off scot-free for all that shit Anna pulled," Theo said to me. "How'd you get outta that one?"
"Shenanigans," I grunted, not exactly in the mood to talk about all the crazy shit my consorts like to pull. I was extremely glad to be on the Battlefield, at the moment, inhabiting the body of my dream self just to get away from all that bullshit for a little while.
The King arrived within five minutes. He had sheathed his scepter, so he was no longer the size of a small building. He was back to his normal, unprototyped, nearly six-foot-tall form. The Prospitians who resided in the White Keep were all making a big deal out of the King's return, but the White King seemed to only want to get through the crowds as quickly as he could. He gestured for us to follow him as he brushed past us, heading into the Keep.
We followed him down the corridor and into his throne room—though it resembled a library much more than a throne room. The first thing the White King did after the doors closed behind him was to retrieve his pack of Marlboro Reds from the desk. After a moment's hesitation, he then grabbed an additional three or four packs, dumping them into an inner pocket.
"Bear with me for a moment," the King said to us, taking a cigarette from his pack that was already open, lighting it with his zippo. After he took a deep drag, he was able to relax and take a few deep breaths. "There, that is certainly quite a bit better…" he sighed. "Come with me, Heroes. It is time for us to take a leave of absence from the Keep."
"We goin' out on campaign?" Theo asked.
"Yes," the White King replied. "We have lost contact with three of our outposts on the edge of the Badlands. Recon patrols have yet to return, but I am not going to sit on this one. Three outposts in the same sector do not simply go dark without some form of foul play being involved… And if I am going to be out campaigning, I need cigarettes…" the King then turned to me, speaking to me exclusively. "I am obviously not forcing you to join me, Knight—you do have a choice. But if you decide to come along, I shall certainly not complain! My soldiers do their duty well, but they could use every little bit of help. And so could I."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," I grunted. "I'm not exactly on good terms with the Dersites…"
The White King gave a hearty bark of laughter, clapping me on the shoulder. "That's just what I wanted to hear! Nothing quite like an angry and motivated Hero of Force, if you ask me." As he closed his desk drawer, he took out a small handheld radio and issued several hushed orders before shutting it off and slipping it into an inner pocket—presumably a different pocket than the one he was keeping all his cigarettes in. "Follow me, Heroes; an airship will take us where we need to go."
We exited the throne room and headed down the entrance corridor, walking back out into the great outdoors. Although, does the interior of an open castle really count as the great outdoors? Eh, who knows and who really cares?
The first thing I noticed was the small, golden Prospitian gunship hovering in the air just over the entrance of the White Keep. It was a small ship with retractable armored doors, like a helicopter. Instead of having a single set of rotor blades, though, it had two smaller sets of rotor blades that angled up and off to the sides. Maybe this made it more stable in the air? I dunno, I'm no expert.
One of the side doors of the airship was slid open from the inside, and a rope ladder was tossed down. The White King grabbed hold of it and started pulling himself up. Theo didn't use the ladder, though. He took a deep breath and propelled himself up into the aircraft with a soft gust of wind. Man, watching him do the whole airbender thing never got old… As for me, I just floated up to the airship on my own—advantages of being a dream self. I was the last inside, and I moved to shut the side door, but the White King stopped me. "I prefer having the sides open," he explained, grinning as the airship started to pull away from the White Keep, soaring up towards the Skaian clouds. "Can't enjoy the scenery with closed doors, now, can we?"
I could see a shorter Prospitian in the cockpit, dressed in a light brown leather jacket and a helmet emblazoned with the Prospitian symbol—a golden pentagon with eight spires protruding from four of its sides; two spires per side, obviously. Representative, I could only assume, of us, the eight players of this session. He must have been the one to push out that rope ladder.
Also taking up some space in the troop bay, here, were the two door guns. They appeared to be some sort of heavy machineguns, though I think they probably fired energy projectiles. It was almost kinda funny how far to either extreme the carapacians' weapons were. Either they were carrying swords and energy-resistant armor, or all-out energy weapons. No normal guns; all energy weapons. I have no idea how they made it work, using melee weapons in conjunction with fucking energy rifles…but they've been apparently fighting for millennia, so they must've found a way.
"So what's the Badlands?" I had to speak loudly to be heard over the din of the engine and the wind rushing past the side openings.
"Used to be where the Dersites had their largest splicing facility," Theo explained to me. "Nuthin' there anymore, though. Prospitian Royal Air Force completely obliterated the entire area during the last war. The outposts there are pretty much just a formality."
"There a reason why we can't just teleport ourselves there?"
The White King blinked at me. "Teleport?" he echoed, confusion in his voice.
I stopped myself from muttering under my breath. "Transportalize ourselves there. Transportalize. My bad."
"The use of transportalizer pads on the Battlefield was popular once, though it proved to be disastrous," the White King sighed. "Codebreakers on both sides would be able to hack into the signals of enemy transportalizer pads. I can think of at least three occasions in which the Dersites were nearly able to transportalize an entire army straight into the White Keep! Of course, I very nearly sacked the Black Keep an equal number of times using the same method. We have always been locked in stalemates such as this…though I am hoping your arrival will tip things in our favor."
When he finished speaking, he pulled another cig from his opened pack and lit up, sitting down and resting against the bulkhead separating the troop bay from the cockpit. Theo and I remained standing, steadying ourselves by grabbing onto the handholds mounted on the ceiling. The flight took us over half an hour, and we were moving at a pretty good speed. The White King went through almost half a pack of his Cowboy Killers. He flicked the smoldering butt of his eighth or ninth cigarette out one of the side openings before climbing to his feet. "We have almost arrived," he announced.
I leaned out one of the side entrances, using my Aspect to keep the wind from tearing at my eyes and face. Sure enough, I could see some kind of structure down on the ground, off in the near distance. It was a small castle, by the looks of it…thick, white outer walls, a citadel in the center flying Prospitian banners, giant cannons of some sort forming the defenses… I guess it could be more accurately described as a fort, rather than a full-on castle.
"That is Fort Terminus," the White King unknowingly confirmed my last thought. "It is our nearest garrison to the Badlands, as well as headquarters to the Alabaster Rifles, one of my finest divisions. Fine chaps. Fine chaps, indeed."
"Wouldn't want any other kinds of chaps," I remarked.
Our airship came in for a landing in front of the fort's gates. The rotors had barely started to die when we all hopped out of the airship. The fort was sitting on the top of a wide hill, within one of the giant white squares of the Battlefield's earth. It had a commanding view over all the surrounding area, making it a favorable location for a fort. Especially one with energy cannons.
The gates were already open. Whether this was in anticipation of the White King's arrival, or if it was simply because there were no enemies in the area…I honestly couldn't say. I'm still what you would call 'new here'. After all, this was only my second full dream on the Battlefield—not counting the dream when I left Prospit and arrived here, only to nearly get shot out of the sky by Dersite commandos.
We passed through the gates and headed towards the citadel. There were Prospitian soldiers—members of the Alabaster Rifles, presumably—who were already residing in the fort. Some of them were manning their posts on the watch, others were pulling sentry duty in front of the entrance to the citadel or in the gatehouse. If there was anyone who was off duty, we didn't see them.
The sentries stood aside for the White King, allowing us entry into the citadel. We followed the White King through a series of halls and small chambers until we emerged into a room that, in stark contrast to the archaic feel of the castle, resembled a military command center. Prospitians were sitting at stations with headphones over their ears. They appeared to be monitoring and coordinating radio traffic within and between all the units in the area. In the center of the chamber was a low, broad table with a gray surface that glowed softly. Holographic symbols and images were projected barely half an inch off the glowing surface—it was a tactical map of some sort. I couldn't make heads or tails of it…but then, I wasn't a Prospitian commander.
The tall dude poring over the gray table was, though. He was a tall, broad-shouldered Prospitian, dressed in a dark, greenish-yellow combat jacket and similar colored trousers. A small, wooden pipe hung lazily from the corner of his mouth. He also had a rather noticeable scar on his face, running from the top of his head, down through the empty socket of his left eye, and almost all the way to his mouth. On both of his sleeves, he wore a small, simple, circular golden patch that bore the image of two crossed white rifles. Alabaster Rifles. I noticed that everyone in the room bore the same symbol on their own sleeves.
The scarred Prospitian glanced up at us as we entered the chamber. He instantly removed the pipe from his mouth and stood ramrod straight at attention. "My King," the scarred dude bowed his head, relaxing only when the White King returned the gesture. "Welcome to Fort Terminus. I've been expecting you…and who are the aliens?" he grunted, squinting over at Theo and me, as if he thought narrowing his vision would somehow increase his understanding of us.
"I present to you the Thane of Breath and the Knight of Force," the White King introduced us.
"Hey."
"'sup."
Theo and I spoke at pretty much the same time.
The scarred dude blinked his one eye at us, looking somewhat less than impressed. "Wonderful to have you," he said to us, not even attempting to hide his sarcasm.
The White King didn't waste any time. He brought us straight over to the scarred guy's table and got down to business. "The runners informed me that we have lost contact with three of our outposts—tell me everything."
"Outposts 33-W, 34-W, and 35-W, to be precise," the scarred dude manipulated the controls of the table. There was a myriad of different symbols overlaid on top of the topography of the surrounding regions. The scarred guy highlighted three small, triangular symbols that were situated not far from the edge of a region of land that was colored a dark gray. "Recon patrols have been dispatched to each location, but we have not heard back from them."
"When were the patrols sent out?" the King asked.
The scarred guy hesitated, then replied, "Over two hours ago."
It was the White King's turn to blink. "Recon protocol mandates patrols to check in with headquarters every half-hour, and none of these three separate forces have complied?"
"Which is why I am about to send out a second recon team-" the scarred dude started to say, but the King cut him off.
"Scratch that," the King interrupted. He then paused for a moment or two, obviously thinking things over, before making up his mind. "Recon patrols are vanishing, so I believe we should up the stakes. Send out an armored patrol, this time. In the meantime, mobilize the Rifles—if anything is amiss, I want us to be ready. The Black King is up to something… And if neither of you objects, my Heroes, I would have you accompany them."
"Sounds like fun," I nodded.
"Fun?" the scarred dude turned his monocular gaze onto me. Uh-oh. "Is that what this is to you? I have lost more good men than I have the mental faculties to count in this war, and you consider it to be fun and games?"
"No, uh…" I cleared my throat awkwardly, suddenly wanting to be at least a thousand miles away from this room. "It was sarcasm. A joke. You know what a joke is?"
"Yes, I am fully aware," the scarred guy growled. "And next time you decide to act the clown, just remember that good Prospitians are dying every day so that you can continue to act the clown."
We didn't remain for further discussion. I, for one, was grateful to get the fuck outta there. "Bit of a dick, isn't he?" I muttered to Theo as we exited the citadel. "I mean, that's not exactly the worst thing I've ever said!"
"Oh, the Scarred Marshal ain't so bad," Theo shrugged. "He's a kickass military commander; he just doesn't have a sense of humor. Bein' a smartass right in the middle of his command post probably wasn't the best idea you've ever had."
"What, he was being a dick!" I spread my hands out wide, still maintaining my innocence. "I mean, I respect what he's doing, and everything, but damn! Don't have to be such an asshole, you know?"
Theo's brow furrowed slightly in a frown, but he didn't say anything. He led me to the gates of Fort Terminus, out onto the hillside beyond. The White King's orders must have been relayed, already, because I could already see a small force of armored golden Humvees being assembled at the base of the hill upon which Fort Terminus sat. Prospitian soldiers were mounting up, checking their equipment and weapons, as well as their vehicles.
Theo and I joined them, trading nods and waves with several of the soldiers. When I moved to climb into one of the armored vehicles, Theo gave a sharp whistle, grabbing my attention. I glanced back, saw that Theo was still standing a short distance away from the vehicles. "C'mon, bro, you gonna hop on?" I asked.
"Got somethin' better," Theo grinned. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small brown wallet. He pulled out what I recognized as a captchalogue card and tossed it into the air. The card vanished, releasing the object that had been stored on it. A car appeared, all of a sudden. A small, decade-old blue Ford Focus, with what appeared to be a heavy machinegun bolted to the roof.
It was Little Blue. My car.
I blinked rapidly several times, taking in the sight of my car. "How…you…how did…?"
"I needed a car, and the White King had an appearifier, so…" Theo gave an apologetic shrug. "You fell off the grid for almost a month, dude, and you obviously weren't using your car for anything, so…didn't think you'd mind."
"You stole my car, busted up the roof, and put a turret on top?" I paused for a moment, letting Theo stew for a little bit. Then I burst out laughing. "Dude, that's fucking amazing! Holy shit, can I drive?"
Theo tossed me the keys. "Always wanted to use the turret, sometime," his grin widened. "Couldn't trust the Prospitians to drive Little Blue, so I never got gunner duty!"
It felt almost surreal as I opened the car doors and slid into the driver's seat. The last time I'd driven Little Blue, it'd been…it'd been… Gee, I really don't know how long it's been. A month? Last time I'd driven Little Blue, it had been when I was driving to school on Monday, April 13. The day the school was blown up by a meteor. The day we became a fucking extinct-
Shit. Bad. Bad, bad, bad. I shook my head, doing my best to get those toxic thoughts out of my mind. I couldn't afford to think about what happened to Earth, all those people—every time I started to think about that kind of shit, it threatened to pull me down into depression. And depression wasn't something I needed, right now.
I smiled as I ran my hands over the steering wheel and the gear shift. A round hole had been cut into Little Blue's roof to allow for a gunner to operate the turret mounted on top. When not in use, like right now, it was sealed with glass, acting almost like a normal sunroof. The radio system had also been heavily modified, probably to pick up Prospitian signals.
Theo climbed into the passenger seat, shutting the door behind him. I couldn't help but glance at his kilt as he sat down. When a Hero went god tier, the clothes they ended up with seemed to tie into whatever their titles were. Theo, for instance, as a Thane, had a blue t-shirt with the Breath symbol, and a great kilt—the kind with the extra length of fabric that went over the wearer's shoulder. He even had blue socks that stretched up to his knees. It should have looked like the silliest thing in the universe…but he somehow made it work. And, to be perfectly technical, we weren't exactly in the universe, anymore.
"Okay, dude, if you're gonna be sitting next to me like that…" I gestured at Theo's Thane clothes as I slid the keys into the ignition. "Seriously, are you wearing anything under your skirt?"
Theo raised his eyebrows at me. "You're aware that not telling you if I have boxers on or not is at least eighty-percent of the fun of wearing a kilt in the first place?" he asked, not even bothering to acknowledge my skirt jab.
"Yeah, well if the thing ever goes up Marilyn Monroe-style and you aren't wearing anything, I'm pushing you out of the car. You've been warned," I grunted, turning the keys in the ignition. Instead of the usual initial coughing sound of a starting engine, though, Little Blue's motor came to life in a much smoother, quieter way than normal. The entire car vibrated slightly for a second, then settled back down, the engine now running. Even the engine felt different…it felt as if the car were humming softly.
That's when I noticed that the fuel gauge on the dashboard was reading empty. "Hey, how's Little Blue still running if there isn't any gas?" I asked Theo.
"'Cuz it doesn't run on gas, anymore," Theo replied. "It's powered by a shard of Omnicrystal, from the Land of Shores and Prisms."
"The land of what now?"
"Gwen's planet," Theo clarified. "They're these weird crystals she found that contain a metric fuckton of energy—she found a way to wire one of them into Little Blue. You'll never have to fill up again! Which is good, I guess, 'cuz there ain't exactly a whole bunch of Sunocos or Wawas out here… You wouldn't think it by looking at her, but who ever woulda thought Gwen was so awesome at inventing shit like this?"
"Side-effect of being a Witch of the knowledge Aspect, I guess," I shrugged. "I'll stick to my telekinesis, though, thank you much."
The radio crackled for a few moments, and Theo had to fiddle around with one of the knobs before the gruff voice of the Scarred Marshal issued through. "…channel is now open. All vehicles report."
"This is Iron Lead, reporting in."
"Iron Two, reporting in."
"Iron Three…"
One by one, the eight vehicles that formed the armored patrol radioed in, affirming their status. After all of them had checked in, there was a brief pause. Then the Scarred Marshal got back on the line. "Heroes, report. Do not think yourselves to be above mission protocol if you are going to be accompanying my men into the field."
I was overjoyed to discover that our radio had the old-fashioned hand-held mic, the kind with the cord that you held to your mouth and pressed that button on the side when you spoke into it. I felt like a storm chaser from the movie Twister whenever I used one of those things. I reached for the mic, but Theo slapped my hand away.
"No more pissing off the Marshal today," my best friend warned me, holding the mic up to his own mouth and activating it. "Uh…hey, this is Theo. Rockin' and rollin', over here!"
I arched an eyebrow at him. Rockin' and rollin'? Really? Theo flipped me the bird.
"No names over the net," the Scarred Marshal snapped over the channel. "Your title will be sufficient."
"Yeah, 'cuz no one will guess who the Thane could possibly be," I rolled my eyes, throwing Little Blue into drive, sending us off after the Prospitian Humvees as they rumbled off in the direction of the Badlands. I had to ease up on the gas—though I guess I really couldn't call it the gas, anymore…old habits die hard. When I pressed down on the accelerator, I ended up letting out a loud stream of profanity as Little Blue tore through the tall grass, catching up to the Prospitian vehicles in two or three heartbeats.
"Jesus, this thing packs a punch, now…" I muttered, getting Little Blue back under control.
"Told ya," Theo said as he rolled down his window, letting his arm hang free along the side of the car. "Omnicrystals have a metric fuckton of energy. The shard Gwen put in your engine'll make Little Blue go pretty damn fast!"
"Only a shard, you said?"
Theo gave me a look. "Little Blue would probably break the sound barrier if it had an entire crystal powering it. And that wouldn't do wonders for its structural integrity. Meaning, it would probably-"
"I know what structural integrity means," I muttered, maneuvering Little Blue into the empty spot in the Prospitians' formation. "They aren't exactly the longest words in the dictionary."
"All units, this is Iron Lead. Split off into fireteams – maintain contact with Fort Terminus," the radio crackled to life once again, though this time it was the voice of the Prospitian officer in charge of the patrol, rather than the Scarred Marshal. He then addressed us directly. "Heroes, form up on my left. You are coming with me."
"Acknowledged, Iron Lead; we are Oscar Mike," Theo responded via our own radio.
I gave Theo a look. "Oscar Mike? Really? Do you even know what that means?"
"No," Theo admitted with a sheepish grin. "But it sounds cool as shit!"
"You play too much Call of Duty…"
Apparently the Prospitians had no idea what Theo meant, either, for Iron Lead's next transmission was, "Er… Who is Oscar Mike?"
"No, it's not a person, it's… We're Oscar Mike; we're…" Theo made a flustered attempt to save face, which ultimately ended up collapsing in on itself. "Ah, fuck it. We're right behind your ass."
I did my best to hide my smile as I got right behind Iron Lead's ass. Well, behind and to the left.
A second Prospitian Humvee formed up on our right, also following the front Humvee's lead. I would assume that vehicle was Iron Two. The remaining six vehicles both split into two teams of three, branching off in either direction while we continued heading straight.
As we continued westward—at least, I think we were going west—the more or less flat grasslands that we were plowing through began to get more hilly. Within a few minutes, I could spot mountains on the horizon. I couldn't really see anything beyond the mountains…just a light, grayish fog. Even the luminous, bluish-white Skaian clouds beyond the mountains were obscured.
"Badlands beyond those mountains?" I wagered a guess.
Theo gave a shrug. "Ain't never been out here, before. Still, the gray fog kinda seems like a dead giveaway, so you're probably right."
We drove in silence until those mountains that had been on the horizon were no longer on the horizon. After maybe twenty, twenty-five minutes of steady cruising, we found ourselves on a wide road that started to climb up into the first of the mountains. "Terminus Actual, this is Iron Lead – we have reached the mountains," the Prospitian officer leading the patrol radioed back to base. "Outpost 34-W not yet in sight."
"Acknowledged, Iron Lead; update when you have visual on 34-W," the Scarred Marshal's response was. The other two patrols radioed in at more or less the same time, both of them having the same message.
The mountain road could barely even be called a road. It was more or less just a shelf that had been cut into the side of the mountain. Bare rock – no dirt, gravel, asphalt, or anything road-related. I found myself having to relax every few minutes, when I noticed my grip on the steering wheel was turning my knuckles bone-white. I mean, if I were to drive over the edge—embarrassment aside—Theo and I would easily be able to survive due to a chronic case of being able to fly…but I really didn't want to wreck Little Blue.
Sis would kill me if I wrecked Little Blue. And speaking of Sis…
"So, uh…random question, but have you seen your Grandma at all, lately?" I asked Theo.
Theo's grin faltered slightly, but he quickly covered for it. "Why do you ask?"
"Just curious…" I shrugged. "I mean, I haven't seen my Sis since Day One in this hellhole."
"Okay, well same here," Theo murmured. "Grandma helped me get up to my first gate, then I never saw her again."
"I hope they're okay, wherever they are…" I decided to file those thoughts under the restricted section of my mind. Along with all thoughts of home, of what happened to Earth. Can't think about that kind of shit, right now.
The mountain road took us around two mountains before depositing us onto a ridge overlooking the foothills on the other side of the mountain range. And a short distance beyond the foothills…it was almost as if the grass and trees consciously made the decision to stop growing past a certain point. Though it was obscured in part by the gray fog, I could see that everything beyond the western foothills almost resembled a wasteland. Bare rock formations, old craters and gaps in the ground, tree stumps… There had obviously been a giant battle in that area, and the land did not seem to have recovered from it.
"Reasons why you shouldn't fuck with the Prospitian Royal Air Force," Theo observed, nodding at the gray lands to the west.
"Fort Terminus, this is Iron Six!" the radio came to life suddenly, though the transmission was garbled and full of static. "Arrived…utpost 35-W! There's no…aking heavy fire! The Dersites, they…" It was really hard to make out what the dude was trying to say…but the very last part of his transmission came through pretty clearly. The Prospitian was still trying to send his transmission, when suddenly another voice—one of the other soldiers in the speaker's Humvee—screamed Look out! Then the transmission dissolved into static.
"Iron Six, this is Terminus Actual – please repeat your last!" the Scarred Marshal came back onto the channel, trying to reestablish contact with the patrol. There was no response. "Iron Six, this is Terminus Actual, do you read? Iron Seven or Iron Eight, please respond, over. Does anyone in the third patrol hear me?"
The Scarred Marshal continued trying to contact anyone who had been in the last patrol, the one that had branched off to the north to investigate Outpost 35-W. There was nothing.
Theo and I shared a look. "That doesn't exactly sound reassuring," I said quietly.
"And that doesn't look reassuring," Theo pointed at the pillar of smoke that had just come into view as we rounded the next bend.
We had arrived at Outpost 34-W. It had been burned to the ground.
