Chapter 9
... and Found
1
Blankley was no spring chicken. He would be fifty years old in a couple months, but had the sagging complexion of an eighty-year-old. But when that machine came back with recordings of an intact spacecraft, he had felt a hundred pounds lighter.
"I want you to call off this plan of yours," his doctor had said, not matching Blankley's excitement in the least. "You're really in no position to move around this soon after your last attack."
His wife had said after his first heart-attack, that she wouldn't stick around for when the second came. She was long dead now, and here he was, Mayor of civilisation's remnants, alive but not-so-healthy, but what did the latter matter when he still had the prior? He kept an old photo of her on his bedside table, but always put it face-down whenever he had company for the night. He hadn't touched its frame in weeks now. He had a whole world to grieve, hundreds of people to look after. He knew she would understand, from heaven or hell, whichever one she had wound up in.
"That was two months ago." Blankley regarded the good doctor with tempered patience. He couldn't sit still, not when there were things to be done, preparations to make.
His doctor held up a finger. "One, actually. Your assistant found you on the floor with vomit in your mouth. Remember?"
He wished he didn't. "I'm not calling it off, doctor."
"Delay it, then." Another finger was added. "Two weeks, at least. Your last test results have been… less than adequate."
"Anyone else said that to me, they'd be sent topside."
"But you need me to say these things to you, because no one else down here is going to speak up... Your executions have seen to that."
Blankley's temper threatened to spill, but he held it back. Years of politics had trained him to keep his cool when under the spotlight. "They are necessary displays of exiling the unwanted stock." And he really did believe that, even if it made him sound like an answering machine.
"As you say, Mayor. One week, then. For your sake."
"That's too late."
"That won't matter if you pass out from lack of oxygen, or the shift in air pressure on the way to the surface, or the kilometres we have to walk to even get to this spaceship of yours."
"I won't be walking." Blankley held up his own hand, extended his own sagging digit. "Time is of the essence, as the saying goes, and don't you roll your eyes at me. If one of my synthetics could find the ship, who's to say some savages won't get there before us? I have a duty to the people of the Bunker, and I won't let my failing body, or insubordinates, get in the way of our freedom."
The doctor sighed, backed down. He was important, but not that important, and they both knew it. Blankley left the clinic and made his way up a few levels. Two of his guards went with him, as usual. He'd never been attacked in public since the Bunker's official launch (or close, depending on how you look at it), but after the former chief engineer's crude destruction of the Sweeping equipment topside, which had been streaming to public channels live at the time, some few had gotten the idea to follow in the boy's rebellious ways. A few kids down in the engineering levels.
Who else? he thought. But a few beatings in the late hours of the night had seen to keeping that little problem contained. And an armed escort was the cherry on top. Weyland could still exert its will, and he'd make sure the company knew that when he left this shell of a planet.
He made a few public speeches on how the Bunker would go about its long-awaited departure for the surface. Plenty of people were terrified of the mass Exodus that was fast approaching. People were sheep, as history proved time and again, skittish to even the slightest hint of anything hinting at big news. But he couldn't blame them – he himself was just starting to get used to being the only leader left on this world.
Perhaps Weyland will see a bit of himself in me.
It would bring the big break he had been looking for all his corporate life – finally some recognition of his abilities to move on up in the galaxy. Letting all the competition wipe each other out was a rather… peculiar way to go about it, and was not much his style. Still, it all worked out for him in a way. He'd just wished it had been cleaner, quieter. Far too many hiccups he was ashamed he'd let slip. But one never stops learning their lessons, as his father once said, there would be plenty of time to improve when this backwater planet was far behind him.
Stepping into the loading bay, Blankley was approached by a tall, well-built man in greasy overalls. Blankley crinkled his nose at the stench of oil and burning metal. He didn't usually come round this part of the Bunker, but it would become a regular stop in his already busy schedule in the coming days.
"How's it coming along?" Blankley asked. The man in the overalls lifted a pair of goggles from his grimy face. The former chief would have recognised this one. He'd smashed him in the face with a wine bottle, and Jess' mug was scratched up with red lines all over his cheeks.
"Good progress, sir. Really good. Should be ready in three days. Four at most."
"Show me."
Jess nodded, leading Blankley into the rear of the bay, past dozens of workbenches covered in scrap parts. Boilers and furnaces stacked up on rows were billowing soot and steam from there tops, wispy trails sucking into the vents near the ceiling. The men and women nodded politely as he went by, while the one's further away looked on like he was some deity out for a stroll. He felt sorry for them, unable to bring their heads out of the sands of the apocalypse. Then again that's why there were people like him around – to guide.
"We're manufacturing ass-tons of ammo for the 'fifty," Jess said as they walked. Blankley fell in step behind him, already beginning to wheeze. Living off pills and alcohol would do that to you. "But we've only got a couple shots for the thirty mil'."
"'Couple shots', Jess? What is that."
"Seven, sir."
"Seven? That's not even close to what I requested."
"It's the best we could do with what we've got. Maybe if that kid put in his Sweep earnings before he fucked off, we might have had enough scrap to make some more shells."
Blankley picked up on the tone Jess made, and didn't let it go. "Now now, Jess, that 'kid' managed to put you down during your little night of fun with one of the girls, remember?"
"How could I not when you keep reminding me?"
"I remind you because it was almost you I was going to send Sweeping, not our young chief. You're lucky Jake took one for the team or I might have had to go through with it."
Jess backed down, grumbling under his breath. He and his little group were hot-headed and arrogant, but they knew their place, that was why Blankley had Jess as his unofficial second.
There were five vehicle docking bays on the northern wall of the level. The third one was occupied. Blankley stopped in front of it and looked up at the metal contraption sitting in the glow of a large ceiling lamp.
A pair of engineers holding welders were crouched before the side-tracks, white sparks snapping into the air around them as they worked. The bulky, rectangular base was layered in various pieces of plating, most of which had come from scrapped roofs or metal wall sheets, all welded on to create this survivalist-themed bulk. The nose of the vehicle was capped in a V-shaped cone, a hatch flipped open at its front half. The top of an engineer's helmet was poking out of it.
A turret jutted from near the centre of the bulk, flanked by two antennae. A box of ammunition was being fed into the back of the turret, then down into the gunner seat, hidden inside the vehicle. Old, green paint of the army had been replaced by a black coat at Blankley's behest.
The tank was an older Weyland model, but still packed a hard punch, and could take hits too, with all the extra sheeting welded on. It had been the only thing Blankley had shipped inside, back when the bombs were dropping from the sky. Nothing any savage's topside could deal with, Blankley had no doubt, but he wouldn't have minded more shells for the turret. Sometimes at night when he looked through the surface cameras there were… things, crawling around in the darkness, things that gave him nightmares sometimes. He'd kept it all to himself of course, nothing to bother the people with.
"There's enough room in the back for four or five people to squeeze in," Jess explained. "everyone else will have to walk."
"Sacrifices," Blankley said, running a hand across the bulk of the tank. "This will be our flagship through the surface. You've done good work here, Jess. But you need to double the shifts for everyone. Make sure we have enough ammo for anything we might face out there. I want at least twenty-five shots for the thirty millimetre. Take supplies form the general stocks if you need it. You make that happen, I'll let you ride along with me inside once you're finished."
"Thank you, sir. How long do you think until we're out of this hole?"
"Depends on how quick we are. We'll send the tank up first with a handful of men, myself included. Then I'll have my guards escort the rest of the Bunker up to the surface, one group at a time. We'll start evacuating as soon as this tank's ready. After that we've got quite a walk to make to get to the ship. We'll need to move fast."
He left the matter of organising hundreds of people into an orderly fashion unspoken. Whatever horrors waited up there would no doubt notice this development, and the tank could not be everywhere at once to protect them all. Not everyone leaving the Bunker will live to see the end, he was sure of that.
"Er, sir?" Jess asked hesitantly.
"What is it?"
"This ship, it's got to be pretty big to hold all of us inside. And I'm surprised it's not in pieces at this point."
"It's only a light commercial flight model, Jess. I've seen the images. Small and subtle, but it'll work. Someone must have been patching it up when the Fall interrupted them, that's my guess. My scouts are sure it is fully functional."
"Commercial? Even the biggest commercial ships can only fit a couple hundred people inside. How are we going to fit eight hundred guys on board?"
"Sacrifices," Blankley said again. "Those who make it that far will understand. Millions of people have died on Solaris, a few hundred more won't change a thing."
Blankley watched someone transport a tray of cannon shells over to the rear of the tank.
"But we'll… we'll come back, right? Come back for the rest?"
The Mayor didn't answer.
2
Maddox looked better and worse than the last time she saw him.
He came up to about her chest height. His build was thin, but athletic at the same time. A layer of perspiration covered his creamy skin, giving it a gleamy sheen that was so very contrast to her own onyx hide. His shirt and pants were covered in animal guts and blood, but that didn't stop her from staring. After all she herself was dripping with intestines.
But there was something else about him, something that made her insides flare with excitement. Maybe it was the dark device covering up his face, but he looked so much… older. He was an adult now, aged, but not in a bad way. It was strange to picture that the man in front of her had once been that little boy she'd stumbled upon on that rainy day.
And yet… was stumbled the right word? Had the world itself directed him to her, or perhaps her predecessors had something to do with it? It was hard to imagine it might have all come down to simply chance…
But it was also hard to process that he was actually… there. All this time on her own, chasing after him and she hadn't even known it, and now here she was, speechless. A numbing sensation washed over her limbs, the same numbness she felt whenever she experienced pain – which was most of her waking life – and she felt like she was beside herself, just like how it feels whenever she was in a dream.
Maybe this is the dreaming world.
And wouldn't that be the ultimate insult? To watch her old friend fade away into the wisps of her imagination? When in reality she was lying in a pool of her acidic blood just outside, succumbed to the wounds these creatures had inflicted on her?
But no, this was real. She could feel blood dripping from her claws, could feel the burning sensation of the couple scratches spotting her hide. But most of all, she could feel the cold shell that was her body heating up emotions she'd not felt in years. It had to be real.
She raised her hand but stopped halfway, hesitated. She had a hundred things to say to him, and in hundreds more of ways. She wanted to hug him, she wanted to hold his hands, to see his face, but she knew well how frightening her appearance could be, and with that machete in his hand… The way he was heaving told her the chance of him lashing out might not be impossible.
As she worked the imaginary cogs, aiming her thoughts and turning them to words, there was a clunk against metal, and she looked up. Maddox's boot had come a step closer, and she hadn't realised it had been a whole minute of silence that had stretched between them. The human sighed as he looked up at her, unseen mouth working.
"… I-"
A low, baying howl. She and Maddox both turned towards the direction of the interruption. Through one of the windows they could see the slope where first Maddox had walked down from, and then her. Posed at the peak of the ridge were dozens, no, hundreds more of the Gooret creatures. She saw a few of them were bleeding – the ones she hadn't managed to kill outright. They must have called for the rest of the pack.
For a second nothing moved. Then, with another howl, the pack-leader led the rest of its kin down towards the beach. The giant mass of moving brown, filthy fur resembled a colony of ants blanketing a hill.
"Oh shit." Maddox shot out an arm and seized her by her lower left wrist. She yelped out as an electrical feeling surged through the contact. She traced up the arm with the intention of looking at his concealed face, but then her gaze did a double take on a particularly nasty wound on his wrist.
"We've got to go!" He ran for the doorway, her big frame coming with him.
Maddox… Your arm!
"Forget my arm! Run!"
Speaking of which, she had been running non-stop ever since her discovery of his name. Back through the forests, the gas station, the highways, brazing past the familiar sights on all fours (as she was now). The Capitol extending high out in front of her this time, not behind.
She'd memorized the patterns of the arching sun for entire days. She hadn't dared stop, because as the proximity between them closed, his old, yet familiar presence strengthened, and it fueled her on, kept her going. She'd offered up a thousand thanks to her predecessors, but only the silence answered her. She felt a little disappointed at that, but she liked to think that somewhere, somehow, they knew how grateful she was.
But now she was on her own, their last act fulfilled, and now she had a pack of hungry horrible beasts chasing after. No, not on my own, she thought, glancing at the human sprinting by her side.
From her rapidly depleted stamina, and Maddox's mounting wounds, it was obvious neither of them were in any shape to fight, and the Gooret seemed to know it, swarming over the tents in their maddening pursuit. Some even stopped to rip open the flesh of their fallen kin and delve into their spilled guts, but a quick count told her at least fifty of the things were right on their tail.
Seashells splintered and pebbles clacked together under her heels as she galloped like a doe up the beach. Maddox! she said. we need to talk!
He wheezed out words between breaths. "Yeah well… gah… Can't it… wait!?"
Right. Humans used their mouths to speak as well as breathe. She didn't want to wait, didn't want reality to get in the way between him and her, but the Gooret were closing in, and to her horror, Maddox was slowing down.
Just like last time.
No, she told herself harshly. It would not be like that again. They were both older now, stronger in body. This time would be different, and she would make sure of it.
The quickest members of the pack came close enough that she could smell their horrid breath. She reared up her tail, and snapped it like a whip. Crack! The head of a mangy beast went sailing away like a bottle cap, while the rest of its body buried into the sand, unmoving.
Her feet made wet slapping sounds as a small wave rolled in from their right. Cold bubbles fizzled away against the hot shoreline, carrying broken pieces of shells back out into the currents. A Gooret was running parallel to Maddox, head craned at him, teeth bared in a snarl. She was about to lash out her tailblade again when Maddox acted first. He swapped his machete from his left hand to his right, and sliced down the length of its spine all without missing a beat. The Gooret ate sand, hindquarters raised high as it skidded to a halt. It twitched once before stilling.
Two more appeared on her left. There was a mighty snap!– and their bodies literally tore apart, limbs popping off milliseconds after the sound. Her tail came back to flail behind her, its tip coloured crimson.
Despite the feeling of running across a country, the length of the beach was not endless. It stopped abruptly two hundred meters ahead of them, where a gigantic cliff face sealed away all view of the north, beginning at the shoreline and running kilometers to the west like a giant wall of granite. Between her and it, the terrain gave way to a rocky overgrowth that would be hell on her hands and feet. She was tiring so much already, but she pushed herself harder, and faster. She would not die now, not after just finding him!
Naturally she was faster than Maddox, even in her depleted state, but she stuck close to him, warding off encroaching Gooret with her long tail, cutting anything that got within her reach into red ribbons. Sand and gravel underfoot turned into an expansive zone of jagged rocks. The terrain dipped and rose like the pattern of a wavelength, making the running slower and harder.
Maddox almost twisted his ankle as he launched over a pool of water gathering in a bowl-shaped divot. She shot out an arm and pulled him back to his balance, and he shot her a grateful grin (though she couldn't see it). As the chase dragged on, patches of moss and algae compressed under feet and paws, like patches of fur growing in clusters around cracks in the rocky ground.
The terrain was splattered here and there with groups of colourless coral husks, looking like skeletal hands growing out from rock fissures. All the coral was shriveled up and dead, and exploded into plumes of dust that evaporated into nothingness if anything passed close by.
Lips pulled back in a feral snarl, she felt a Gooret bite down on her calf. They had just passed within the shadow of the cliff, and the wall of rock was almost in spitting distance. The boulders gathered around the area were sharp and thin, resembling wicked upturned daggers. She stopped, plucked the stupid Gooret off her and impaled it on a spike, cursing whatever had bred it into the world as she did.
Coming the wall base, and mumbling a bunch of curse words, Maddox craned his neck up to see the top of the cliff, and felt dizzy doing it. He remembered there was an old hiking path going up the wall of rock, a common tourist spot, but it had long eroded away with time and all that was left was a slight discoloration curving up and out of sight.
There was a pat on the rock beside him, and he looked to see his old companion standing beside him, tail pointed up in agitation. Two Gooret were coming at them, flanked by the great mass of brown that was the rest of the pack.
She took the one on the right, and Maddox the left. She ran her talons past its horrid maw and cut its throat from inside out. Maddox ran his machete through his victim's chest all the way to the hilt, blade sticking out of its backside. They threw there kills away and nodded to each other; a few extra seconds bought.
We have to climb! she said, wiggling one of her slim shoulders towards him. On my back, Maddox.
He cocked a brow at her eyeless face, expression contorted in growing fear. "You've got to be kidding me. We'll fall to our deaths!"
And we'll die sooner if we stay within their reach.
Hundreds of growls and barks threw away his hesitance. Grabbing one of her dorsal spikes, he pulled himself up onto her back and straddled himself there. She felt again that warm, buzzy touch of his, only on a whole new scale of giddy and pleasant thoughts. She pushed that aside for now, and threw herself at the wall.
Five meters up, and she began to choke for air. She was close enough to passing out as is, but now with the added weight of her friend, her limbs were complaining up a storm. He's definitely put on some weight since last time, she thought.
"I heard that!"
A creature latched its toothy maw onto the base of her tail, fangs sinking into her hide. Her tailblade curled awkwardly to try and reach the nasty Gooret, but Maddox beat her to it.
He brought a boot down against its snout. It loosened its grip before it could pierce her exoskeleton, and gave way on the second thwack. There was a cloud of blood and a twig-like snap, and the Gooret's broken face flipped back to the ground and landed with a thump.
She saw a holdable ledge another five meters above her, and squatted against the wall in preparation for a jump. She leaped, and was pleasantly surprised at how easily she vaulted up. Then she noticed that was because she felt lighter, and the familiar weight of her companion had slipped from her torso.
Maddox!
Maddox cried out as he entered freefall, arms spinning like windmills as he reached out to grab anything to stop his fall. His limbs snapped against the skeletal length of her tail, which she had slapped into his chest in her following panic. He grunted, sliding from the halfway point down to the shield-like tailblade. His descent came to a painful, bloody halt as his forearms dug into her tail's razor-sharp end.
Snarling through clenched teeth, Maddox looked past the bleeding slits running down his arms at the ground. There just so happened to be a bent rock aiming right up at him. It was sloped like a crescent moon, and the Gooret were using it as a ramp to continue their ferocious pursuit, dozens of them lining up at its base, each waiting for their turn to bite his head off.
One of them used the rock as a run up, vaulted off its peak and sailed for his dangling legs, yellow teeth leading. Maddox ended its aerial journey with a well-timed kick, knocking it out of the air and sending it to the left, where the rocks gave way suddenly to a large drop into the ocean. It disappeared behind the rocks and a splash could faintly be heard.
He tried to reach around to the machete scabbard, but only cut his arms on her tail more with all the movement. Another hound took a leap at him and missed by inches, hitting the ground hard, but getting up, shaking its filthy main like a wet dog.
Maddox! she called. Maddox, I have an idea. You see that ledge to your left?
Barely holding back a cry of pain, he darted his eyes in the direction she indicated. There was the smallest of plateaus two meters across from him. "Yeah?" he said, not quite yelling up at her. There was something silver dangling from her neck, but he didn't pay it much thought at the moment to look closer.
I'm going to swing you across.
"I thought you said you had an idea, not a deathwish! Just climb! Quick!"
I can't hold us both up much longer. On three, ready?
"No! No I'm not! I-I'm going to fall!"
You can reach it. Trust me. Trust me like you did all those years ago.
Maddox looked past her tail length at her, closed his eyes for a second, trying to push away the pain as his arms dug deeper. For a moment the barks of the pack and the crash of the waves was the only sound, then Maddox grunted, nodding so slightly she almost didn't see the motion.
"O-Okay. Okay, ready!"
She counted down. One. She arched her tail back to the right, rising the human higher into the air. Two. Her tail swung the other way, coming close enough to the indicated ledge Maddox could almost reach out and touch it, but dared not to. Swinging back once more, she went to voice the last number when one more Gooret leapt from the rock, aiming right for Maddox's face!
Three!
"Shiiiiiiiiiiiit!" He dragged the word out to three heartbeats long. Moving with the momentum, Maddox let go of her tail and launched into the air. For one horrible moment she thought he wasn't going to make it, and the Gooret would drag him down into the hungry pack's teeth. But the hound missed his head by the mere width of a hand, crashing its head into the space he'd just vacated. Maddox's fingers snatched onto the lip of the plateau, and he cried out in terrible pain, as his wounded wrist threatened to give under his weight.
She sighed in relief as he pulled through it, swinging first one leg up then another. The Gooret were persistent, but not stupid. They gave up trying to launch after, instead prancing about right underneath them, as if waiting for one of them to make a mistake.
Checking one last time to see Maddox was secure, she slid her way to the side, going over him, locking her long fingers into cracks in the granite. She positioned herself carefully, then let her tail fall limp beside his body. There's a hold to your right. I'll swing you again.
There was just enough room for Maddox to rise to his feet, knees quaking when he failed to resist looking down. He put his back against the wall, putting one sweaty hand on her tail. She could feel his fear like it was a physical force, and she tried to soothe his mind through their old link, but she found there was a blockage on his part. A barrier, and navigating around it proved difficult as well as unpleasant. She would have to ask about it once they were off this cliff.
Like a pendulum, Maddox swung from left to right, latched onto her tail for dear life, careful to keep away from its deadly tip as much as he could. He reached the next handhold smoothly, and when he told her that he was good, she pulled her tail away and moved on ahead.
That was the pattern they used as they slowly put height between them and the Gooret pack, their barks and growls slowly becoming quieter with each rise up the cliff. She would move a little bit up and to the right, and swing him across with her appendage. She had a few heart-attacks when he slipped a couple times during the ascent, but he wasn't the only one with failing agility. She was pretty sure Maddox gasped too when she misplaced her foot, sending a pile of pebbles flying away in her error.
She lost count of their paired swings after twenty. Her body was sagging as her energy depleted with each lunge and hang, and she couldn't focus asking the million questions she had, now that they at least had some quiet, which was broken now and then by cawing birds circling overhead, looking for fish, or perhaps waiting for her to make a mistake.
As she climbed she could just barley gleam from Maddox's mind that he was thinking of something called a Tarzan, whenever he used her tail like a jungle-vine. Her list of questions just got longer, and she told herself just one more leap and she would have all the time in the world to ask them.
The scaled the rock of granite, higher and higher until the ground was a distant, grey slab of rocks and water. Waves foamed and crashed up against the cliffs, sending sprays of water so violently high she could feel droplets tickling the backs of her legs. It was the influence of the storm she'd seen, that still could be seen. It was impossible to guess when it would hit, but it would be soon.
The cliff face gently curved around the coast, smoothing out all the holds she'd been relying on thus far. She had to clamp on to right-angled, vertical slabs of rock that put the strain on her hands to the absolute limit. Both her and Maddox's lives were resting on her tiny knuckles. It really put things into perspective for her, how they were just ants compared to the might of the mountain they scaled. How small they were in general.
Maybe it was ten minutes, or half an hour later before she looked up at the lip of the cliff, and could make out grass stalks swishing over the rim. It looked like they were waving her up in invitation. She tail-pulled Maddox until he was by her leg.
Almost there, she told him, even though it was obvious. She was just looking for an excuse to talk, because a little part of her, a very big little part of her, was worried she might not be able to talk soon. She was exhausted.
"We can do it," Maddox said between breaths, the wind pulling his hair off to the side with each violent gust. "You can do it." She locked eyes with him for a moment – even though she had none, and couldn't even see his. Her tail stayed curved around his arm a little longer than necessary, as she prepared to make the last few lunges.
And those last meters were the hardest. There was almost nothing up here to hold on to, and what holds there were forced her into awkward poses that made her muscles burn so hot she started to whimper. Each time Maddox used her tail she stared slipping, and now she was the one suffering anxiety of the long fall that awaited her at the slightest lapse.
Ten meters to go. Another jump and tail-swing. Five meters. She could almost hear the swishing grass awaiting her up there. Between her and her goal there was a hollowed out, chute-shaped curvature in the rock that sliced its way to the top of the cliff. She pressed her back against one side and her feet against the other, pressing her weight horizontally to keep from falling. Every shimmy she made was hell on her bones, and after what felt like hours, but was really only a few minutes, her view of the world turned from rocks to grass.
Dead grass, but she could work with that. She pulled herself up to level ground at long last, her breast rising and falling as she dragged air deep into her lungs.
A shadowy bulk blotted out a section of the sun's aura. Looking up, she traced the patterns of a giant metal bulk stretching from east to west. Bits of metal jutted out in seemingly random places along the hull, giving the ruined vessel a cruel appearance in its design.
Each end of the ship was backed by more cliffs, and somewhere nearby she could hear rushing water. She could see no way off the plateau except perhaps through the ship stretching across her sight, which was beginning to blur at the edges as her energy sapped away at every movement she made.
She hadn't realised Maddox had pulled himself up beside her, grunting and wheezing as he scrambled away from the ledge. Only her upper half was holding over solid ground, but her legs felt like they were made of lead, and she couldn't raise them up. The base of her tail smacked against her thighs, useless and spent. She swore her hands gripping the grass were beginning to slip.
Then a pair of arms reached out and seized her upper wrists. She couldn't see it, but Maddox's face scrunched with effort as he leaned back and pulled. One knee came up tiredly, followed eventually by the other. She crawled like a defeated cat until the emptiness of the drop fell from her heels.
When they were a few meters from the drop, Maddox flopped onto his back, wiping sweat from his forehead with a wrist. She went to go to him, but ended up falling face-first onto the ground with a kick of dust.
Her back arched up, shaking violently with each breath she took. She wanted to sleep and never wake up, that was how tired she felt.
Maddox shifted beside her, shuffling on his knees back towards the drop. "Holy hell…" He guessed they'd scaled a few dozen storeys, probably more. He could still see the Gooret pack down there, running circles around each other in evident frustration. He smirked. "Looks like we got away, huh? … O-Oh shit."
If it wasn't for the subtle rise of her chest, he would have guessed she'd up and died right on the spot. He scrambled over to her front, cupped his left hand on the side of her crown. He called something out to her, but the first couple of words were muffled as she refocused on her hearing. "… Hey, come on. Stay with me. We made it, okay? We got away."
If she heard him, she did not show it. With his right hand he gently tapped at her cheek, and when she didn't react to that, slapped her harder. "Come on, wake up! D-Don't…" He was going to finish with 'leave me', but stopped when her head tilted on its own and he heard her mental voice.
Maddox…?
"I'm right here." He brushed a little smooth spot near the front of her crown, where there were no thorns or spikes. The contact made a tired little purr elicit from deep in her throat. On every other breath, he could see her inner tongue peeking past her fangs. She looked like a wreck.
Water… she said, but it was more like a beg, and not of her own volition. She tried to reach out a claw, but her limb felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, and it flopped away like all the bones in her body had up and vanished.
"Water? I-I don't…" He checked his pockets but his fingers swept over nothing. Whatever he'd been carrying he must have dropped during the fight. He looked round until his gaze settled on the metal hulk a short run ahead of them, regarding it for a few moments. "I… I think I know where I can get some. And some food, too. You look… You look like you need it."
He started to get up, but with the last ebbs of her strength she gripped his leg. No! she croaked. No, don't go. I need you.
"You need to stay down," he insisted, patting the top of her hand. "I'll be right back. Just… Just stay still, okay?"
Maddox pulled away from her, and she had no fight left to hold onto either her consciousness, or her friend. Her vision swirled, blurred, and then sleep overcame her. The last thing she did was curl in on herself and watch his thin form fade into the distance.
No, don't go! I need… need to… and then she was alone in the void that was the dreaming world.
3
Leaving Amaya behind was the most difficult thing, because he'd done it before, and since there prior parting had resulted in so much pain, there was nothing to say this time wouldn't be just as worse.
Even just thinking about his time during his capture made his blood run cold. It had been bad at the start, but later on they'd used more intrusive and painful methods to try and force him to confess. But he'd held on for her, and told them nothing.
But that part, the part that had held him fast against the pain, it was slipping away now that he knew Amaya was alive. He should have been overjoyed, and he was, but the strongest emotion he could feel right now was… bitterness.
Bitter because, why had she not tried to contact him, or find him sooner?
Maybe she was busy. Like me.
But was it really that simple? He had traded his freedom for hers, but he had not felt a single thing from her after that night they parted. Why had she not sent anything to him through that mental tether that linked them? All sorts of negative reasons ran through his head, the most reasonable being that she'd just lost interest in him.
Stop it, he told himself. You can ask her yourself once you've helped her.
He stole a glance back at the black skeletal pile that was his long-lost friend. There were whispers in his head telling him to go to her, but she had passed out, her wounds and exhaustion notable. Besides, the shipwreck was right here, and if there was any chance of him helping her, it was in there. And it would only take a few minutes, Maddox was sure of it.
The word Cyclops was painted in red letters across the bulkhead of the battleship. It was massive, and he could see through the crack between the engines and the cliffs it had literally split the earth apart and created a huge valley during its crash. The massive expanse of terrain to the right told Maddox it had drifted during the last seconds of its momentum, halting just before meeting the ocean. A waterfall was spilling down one side of the half-crater, and looked strangely beautiful despite its evident chaotic construction.
He didn't need to worry about finding an entrance into the Cyclops. The section of the ship leaning on this side of the valley was split open, like a giant bandsaw had sliced through the hull. He could just make out the missing piece far down below in the crater, gathering moss. Dozens of decks stacked in levels made up the interior of the ship, filled with debris choking up most of the hallways visible. Parts of the ship still sparked with the occasional lick of electricity from fallen cables.
So there was still power, but that wasn't surprising. Battleships used nuclear power-cores to keep all their systems – not to mention those massive railguns sticking out its front and sides – online. The core had to still be intact, because if it wasn't, then there wouldn't be a wreck, just a pile of vaporised steel.
He hopped onto the lid of a few spilled crates, then jumped up to the lowest deck. He pulled himself onto a knee, then paused as he noticed he was leaving a trail of blood behind him. His arms, they were still bleeding from Amaya's tail. Damn she's sharp, he thought. He looked back the way he'd come, expecting Amaya's form to be surrounded by Gooret, tearing her apart limb by limb. Of course that wasn't so, but he still pushed himself to hurry up and get back to her.
He brought his back against the hallway wall, drawing his machete out of its scabbard and clutching it in both hands. He considered the pistol, but left it in his waistband. Not because he was still thinking about blowing his brains out, but because he felt strangely attached to the bullet that was intended for him.
His visor spilling his breaths back into his face, he squinted into the darkness of the ship and moved deeper into the wreck. A few moments of walking placed him at a junction splitting left and right, and on the wall was a sign saying Crew Quarters and Canteen, with little arrows pointing down each respective hallway. Maddox went right, and moved away of the outside light's influence.
He waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark before moving into the canteen. The center of the wide room was dominated by dozens of long tables. They were mangled into various piles of scrap. A pair of blast doors lined the northern wall, and to the left were a few toppled vending machines and what looked like a kitchen, just behind a countertop. Off to the right were a series of machines imbedded into the wall like phone booths, and when he spotted them Maddox gave a little – "Ah ha."– of satisfaction.
Synthesizers were standard on most starships, fueled by a grey paste that was pumped up to the public machines from hidden vats sealed far into the depths of the ship. It was the same process they used back in the Bunker. The paste looked like turd juice, and that wasn't far off from the truth, but the synthesizers could manipulate it to look like any type of food the operator wished. Still tasted like total crap, but it was efficient.
He picked the one that looked the least damaged, and started pulling parts off, setting his machete aside with a little clink. When his progress was stopped by bolts and screws, he got up and searched for a maintenance area. Each minute that passed his imagination ran wild with hundreds of ways of Amaya's death, and he started to panic. Finally he found a storage room that had once belonged to an engineer like him, filled with shelving units topped with a selection of tools. There was a little satchel bag sitting on the desk in the corner. He picked it up and filled it with what he would need, then slung the strap over his shoulder.
He crouched before the synthesizer once more and set to work, his curse words echoing down the length of the ship as frustration began to set in with the panic. A lightbulb nearby flicked on and off every now and then, but mostly he had to work in the dark, which was annoying and difficult. But the synthesizer wasn't in as bad a shape as the ship itself was, and after replacing all the parts he'd separated, a tiny mechanical voice squeaked out through some unseen speakers.
"Thank you for using the Synthesizer Mark Four Nourishment Dispenser Unit, if you need instructions on how to use this Unit, say yes now and-"
"Two meatsticks."
The slightly whiny, robotic voice caught its next word halfway, and then the machine began to hum quietly. A section of the base sunk out of sight, then rose up a second later, this time with two objects resting on it. They looked like those churros sticks he remembered having when he went to a carnival that one time. Just thinking about them made his mouth water, and he had half a mind to order cotton-candy to go with it, but meatsticks were the fastest thing these machines made, and he was in a rush.
"Thank you for using the Synthesizer Mark Four-"
"Water."
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear you-"
"Water!"
"Please specify your desired amount of-"
"As much as you can make!"
A little tap poked out of the machine's flank and began to drip water out in a stream. He swore, realizing he didn't have a cup or anything. He ran to the other side of the canteen and ducked behind the glass displays of the counter, leaving the water to leak all over the floor. As he searched the kitchen, he grumbled something about wanting to be served by an actual person rather than some stupid automated voice. He found a plastic bottle in the back of one of the drawers, and unscrewed its lid, blowing out the dust inside.
He sprinted back and rested the bottle underneath the stream. The water gurgled as it slowly filled up to the rim. While it did that, he told the machine to make more meatsticks.
"Please specify you desired amount of-"
"Just pick a number and make them."
Apparently that number was in the hundreds, because the next time he looked up, the synthesizer was overflowing, sticks rolling across the ground. He picked up six more and decided that would be enough for now. He stuffed them in his satchel, then screwed on the lid of his bottle, put that inside too. He was so preoccupied that he didn't notice the shadows to his right were moving. Just when he was about to turn and leave, he backed up into something warm and soft.
An arm looped round and squeezed against his neck in a choke hold. He panicked, and purely on instinct brought his elbow in and struck the persons' stomach. There was a soft grunt of a woman, it was unmistakable.
Maddox was just about to start lashing out, when a knife entered his vision and slipped against his throat. The weapon was pale in colour, and looked very similar to a human bone, one point filed down to a sharp point. It pressed hard against his neck, enough to draw blood, but not enough to pierce the skin.
His attacker leant down and whispered in his ear: "You move an inch and this goes all the way in." She wiggled the bone-weapon for emphasis. Maddox went still, eyeing his machete lying just by his foot.
"Erin!" the woman hissed. The way her voice garbled up told Maddox she was also masked. Both her arms looked like they'd been dowsed in oil and set on fire, ugly bits of skin flapping away from her flesh. The arms were thin as sticks, and he could probably overpower her, but the sharp end of – yet another – knife kept him in place from trying something. "Erin get over here!"
"Huh?" another voice said from somewhere behind them. A cone of light washed over Maddox, and he saw his and his attacker's silhouettes painted against the wall. They looked like one big conjoined obsidian monster. "Liz! Who's that?"
The one called Liz kept her choke tight enough to make Maddox gag, slipping her charred arm underneath his mask. "Another canny. He's fucking covered in blood and shit. Bastard probably ate Jack when she ran off."
Canny means cannibal, Maddox thought, remembering the three he'd seen sitting around that campfire with the human limbs on the spit.
"Did he get you?" Erin's boots were coming closer, the light, likely from a flashlight, shrinking as the distance closed.
"Naw, I got him." If the dagger slid any more Maddox was sure he'd start choking on his own blood. "Didn't I, you sick fuck? Not so tough without your fucking friends, are you?"
"Not. A fucking. Cannibal." Maddox said, easing out each word carefully so he didn't' disturb the knife that bobbed against his jugular.
"Never seen a canny on their own before," the one called Erin said. He came just within Maddox's peripheral, and he noticed the man was garbed in a patchwork shirt and long pants, stained and ripped all over the place. Other than the basic rebreather he wore, he looked like a slave. He wasn't wearing shoes, and when Maddox chanced a look, neither was Liz. "What's he doin' here?"
"He was crouched over there, probably taking a dump or something." Liz indicated with a pinky finger. Erin followed her point and illuminated the synthesizer with his flashlight. There were sticks everywhere, gathering in a big pile before the machine.
Erin's flashlight-hand trembled, making the oval of light wobble. "M-My god," he said. "Look Liz! Look at that!"
Maddox heard a gasp from the woman, and judging by her skinny arms and her even thinner companion, he guessed they'd never seen so much food in their life, before the Fall or after. Her hand, the one holding the sharpened bone, relaxed at the sight as she looked over his shoulder at the mountain of food.
It was all the opportunity Maddox would get, and he took it.
He brought up his boot, slammed it back down into one of her knees, and lastly, smashed his heel down again and broke her toes. Liz screamed, and he overpowered her arm easily before she could slit his throat. He threw her to the ground, and in the following sprawl she landed on her own bone-knife, impaling herself right through the stomach. Her cry turned into a wet gurgle.
Erin had whipped around and was sailing a fist through the air, torch clutched in dirty fingers. Maddox ducked beneath the swing, snatched up his machete, and ran the man through, yelling out the entire time.
Maddox mimicked Erin's wide eyes, as they both looked down at the fatal wound. "I… My…" But Erin never finished the thought. Maddox planted a boot on his waist and kicked the man off the blade. He fell on his back with a thump, arms flung wide out by his sides. He exhaled once, and stopped breathing.
Maddox gave the other man a long look, then winced when the ship was filled with Liz's choked gargles, and the synthesizer's robotic voice asking her to please repeat that in a clearer tone. Each sound amplified in the confines of the tight room, bouncing back and forth until Maddox's ears rung. He grit his teeth and roared: "Shut up!"
Whether he was talking to the machine or to the woman was hard to tell, but he silenced both of them, one with a punch and one with a slash of his blade. One could tell which belonged to what. When the wreckage was quiet once again, Maddox took a look at the mess surrounding him, thick trails of blood slipping into the water pool that hadn't turned off during the short fight, expanding the blood's influence over the floor.
Maddox grimaced the entire time as he wiped his machete clean on one of the slave's shirts, if that was what they were. A cold feeling slipped down his collar, and he brushed a thumb over his neck, and it came back red. The little puncture from the bone-knife stung, but other than that he was fine. Physically speaking, at least.
Giving the two humans one last look and a shake of the head, he remembered he had someone else waiting for him now, and didn't give himself time to brood himself into oblivion before racing back the way he'd come.
4
When she had sent out her very first neonates into the horrible, dangerous world in search of their own Hosts, she'd almost gave herself a panic attack of how afraid she was. To be rendered immobile while her firstborns were out there, where she couldn't protect them. It was a feeling similar to now, trapped in this black expanse, while far away she could feel her exhausted physical body lying on itchy grass.
She didn't know which was worse: waiting for her firstborns to return, or waiting to see if Maddox came back – or not. It bothered her that she couldn't seem to choose, because it seemed no matter how much the planet was obliterated, it still found ways to throw the ones she cared about out of her reach.
She felt cheated, sitting with her head buried between her knees in the void of the dreaming world, slowly rocking back and forth. Cheated from her break of the miserable life she had. The only thing more awful than that was the cold. That was the worst thing. Every time she slipped into the dream-world it was there to greet her, a great chill she wanted to tear apart with her claws, but just couldn't.
And just when Maddox had made her feel warmth, her body had failed her. Her mind had failed her. It wasn't fair. The frost of the void slipped into her bones, and she began to slip into her old ways, thinking of how much of a failure she was and that she'd-
A voice, calling to her. She felt something rub against her waking world body, like the caress of a ghost. A part of her wanted to just ignore it, wait for the next world to greet her – if there was one. But that part was overpowered by the rest of her, as she recognised the owner of the voice.
Maddox…?
Black turned to a blurry white, and she was lying on the grass, head lolling to the side as her big crest threw her head off balance. She shot up like a spooked meerkat and was rewarded with a pounding headache.
"Woah there, hey, I'm right here," someone said, a pleasant voice, as sweet as rustling leaves. She clung onto it like her life depended on it. "I'm here," Maddox said again. "Eat this."
Her vision hadn't returned, but she could feel a soft hand easing her head down to the ground. Her strength was still absent, so she opened up her mouth like an infant, and her companion stuffed something in her maw. A part of her felt humiliated at being fed like she was a child, but she suppressed it before it bloomed.
The thing he'd fed her tasted like shit, but she fought the urge to gag, chewing down the gravelly-textured stick with her wicked fangs and inner mouth. She thought back on all the times she'd fed on the corpses of wild game, the shear wetness of the whole process of gutting those feral creatures. That actually made her gag. She wondered if she could ever eat normally after all those nights feeding on raw crap.
When she swallowed the stick down, she clicked her tongue and opened her mouth for more. Maddox clicked his own tongue and fed her again, but this time with something soft and nub-shaped. An experimental suck granted a mouthful of water, and she drunk eagerly.
As she swallowed, she heard him clear his throat. "Hey, I… Man, you don't how good it is to see you again-" And then he said something, something that literally kicked her heart into gear. All at once she felt life flooding back into her arms and legs. Her vision refocused, and she saw his visored face leaning before her, and the rear of a ship sticking up into the cloudy sky behind him.
She pushed her hands into the dirt, feeling the blisters on her palms, and arched her breast up like she was a rising cobra. The movement pushed aside his hand that was stroking that little smooth part of her crown, and Maddox blinked at her, not quite shaking the feeling that something was wrong. "Hey, woah, take it easy there okay?"
What did you just say? She sounded almost threatened.
"Uh…" Maddox raised a brow in confusion. "I said to take it easy."
Not that! she snapped, her crown making her look taller than him, even though she was still laying down. What did you call me?
Maddox looked confused. "I… A-Amaya? I… called you Amaya. What did you…"
He said more, but she didn't hear anything other than that. She was too focused on it, playing it back over and over, all in the voice of the man beside her. All she had ever felt was loss and pain for seven long years, and now in the space of mere minutes, so many new, different emotions swelled up inside her when she at long last remembered the name. Her name.
"Are you alright?" Maddox asked, eyeing her body that had gone as still as stone. "Amaya?"
That's my name, she rasped, lips curling up at the corners. That's my name! I remember!
Maddox, who clearly didn't know what she was going on about, scratched his head. "Uh, yeah. Amaya. The one I gave you, right? Why don't you remember- woahhey!"
She made a happy purring sound and threw herself at Maddox as a skeletal, black mass. All four of her arms wrapped around his back and squeezed him to her breast.
Oh, Maddox! She thrummed deep inside her throat. Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!
"… You're welcome?" Amaya rested her chin on his soft hair, folding over him like a ribbed, but soft sheet of onyx. Maddox was perplexed, but he wasn't complaining. He put his arms around her slim waist, and returned the embrace, eyes closed in content.
They were flanked on all sides by a dead city, a poisoned sea, and the wreck of a devastating warship, but in those long moments of their conjoining, a little bit of life sparked back into the fallen world.
Amaya felt something wet drip across her breast, and she peeked over his head to see what it was. She would have started sobbing if she'd seen the tear running down his concealed face. She could feel his sadness, but it was the good kind, not that she'd ever thought that there was a lighter side to that before.
Instead she saw a redness dripping down his fingers and neck, blotting against the places they were connected. She wanted nothing more than to press her whole body against him, but she parted from him just a tad so she could take his hand in one of her own. Maddox… your hand. Underneath the strap of cloth, brown with dried blood, was a wound running right through his wrist. She pushed the cloth away and pressed a claw next to it, and they mutually winced at the flare.
And your throat. There was a bead of blood clotting next to his adams apple. Maddox hadn't had that earlier, and it looked very similar to the prick of a knife. You're hurt.
"It's nothing." He pushed aside her hand that was going to his throat. "Ran into some trouble. Forget about me."
She almost felt like punching him for saying that last bit, but then she saw how infected his hand wound was, and her anger drained away.
Keeping her primary arms on his shoulders, she used her secondary pair to seize onto his weakened arm. He tried to resist at first. "Amaya I said that I'm-"
Shut up. She peered down so her snout was inches from his wrist, keeping his arm still. She lifted up the wrappings. The wound was rimmed with soot and dirt, the beginnings of infection making her cringe. She twisted his limb around and saw it went right through to the other side. She let out a pained exhale, and Maddox shivered, asking her what she was doing.
She answered by bobbing her throat, until she felt a lump come up from her stomach. Keeping three of her arms on Maddox, she raised a fourth and cupped the palm before her mouth. With a sigh, a glob of white mucus flopped out onto her hand. She noted Maddox's disgusted wince with a tiny grin. Keep still, Maddox. This will sting.
"What will stin- OW!"
Spreading the substance over her hand, she stuck the mucus to the wound and pressed her fingers deep inside. Her talons were smaller than her main hands, but still very sharp. She took great care to keep the pointed tips from stabbing him.
The growls and vulgarities spilling from Maddox almost made her stop, but she pushed on, and soon his squirms began to settle down. His eyes went wide as the flaps of flesh began to restitch.
She slowed down her movements, cleaning away the dirt and blood with the delicacy of a feather. She flipped his arm around and worked on the other side, scooching just a tad closer to him as she worked. Everything in the waking world was cold, but now she had found someone who radiated warmth, and her body demanded his closeness.
Soon there was nothing left of the wound but a thin discolouration. Maddox turned his arm around like it was brand new, which for all it felt like, it pretty much was. "Holy shit, you… I thought I was screwed for sure! You're amazing, Amaya!"
She felt a little heat rush up to her cheeks, and she twined her fingers together, a little embarrassed at his praise. You're welcome, Maddox.
"What even is that stuff?"
Royal Jelly, she said, glad for the distraction. They harvested it from me back during my capture. I use it as a healing salve, but I remember Weyland liked to refine it into something called drugs.
"No kidding," he said, rolling his wrist. "It feels like I took the biggest whiff of the green whistle."
The whiff of a what?
"Never mind." He waved a hand, sitting back with his hands in his lap. Amaya peeled away from him, although reluctantly, and sat across from him, crossing her longs legs. "So… How did you find me?" he asked after a pause.
Who's to say you didn't find me? she answered with a smirk. Her tail curled around her ankle, the tip almost making contact with his boot. Maddox eyed it for a second before replying.
"Well… me, I guess. Honestly, I didn't come out here looking for you. I thought you were dead and I… I guess I was going to try and join you. If you hadn't come along, I…"
Amaya moaned softly through her chops, the image of Maddox lying in a pool of his own blood hard to dismiss. She reached out a hand and squeezed his knee. But I did, and I am glad you stayed your hand.
"Sorry," he said. "I don't want to piss all over the mood. It's just… I was so close to going through with it, you know? I just had nothing left to live for. It was… terrifying."
She could feel his shame and wanted to wash it away, but the barrier between their minds prevented her from doing so. As she went to speak, Maddox looked up at her, the faintest of smiles donning his lips.
"But now you're here, Amaya. My old study-buddy. I didn't think I'd ever see you again, but I'm glad I was wrong." Amaya saw something through his smile, like he was holding something back, but she didn't call him out on it. Not yet. "At least I won't die alone on this planet."
She knew that was the Fall talking through him, hoped that it wasn't really his own words. I won't leave your side, my friend. Never again. I promise you that.
They fell into silence for a while, both of them unable to sit still for longer than a few seconds. Maddox was the one to break it. "So, uh, do you have any idea where we could find some shelter, or something? That ship over there it's… not exactly empty." He shivered as a gust of wind sailed by.
This waking world is never safe, she said, lifting a claw to her chin. The only place I could think of would be my Hive and… oh, wait, wait! My Hive! Of course! With you here that is the one place I know will be safe! More than safe!
"Me?" Maddox raised a brow. "Why do I have anything to do with your Hive? And by the way, you have a Hive?"
Yes, far to the west of here. It's safe because you can get us off this planet!
She told him all about her Hive's construction over the spaceport, and the one intact ship she had preserved with her resin, and repaired over the months. With each explanation she made his face lifted more and more, and his brows looked like they were about to rise past his head like a cartoon character.
"That must have been frustrating, having your ship voice-locked," he said once she was done.
If you want to put it lightly, she replied, her face beaming. Do you know what this means? You and me, we can leave this dead world behind us!
"Good thinking on your end, Amaya. But are you sure it's still there? No one's, like, tried to steal it while you're gone?"
I would know if something launched from this world, and no one smart enough would dare step foot in my Hive, empty or otherwise. And nobody besides you or I knows there is a ship deep inside anyway.
"I'm not so sure about that." Amaya gave him a look. "Back in the Bunker the Mayor told me some of his people found an intact ship. Said it was in a 'unique biome' or something like that. It can't be a coincidence."
Oh, no. Her crown quaked as a horrible feeling began to grow in her breast. They didn't take it, did they? They couldn't have…
"No, no they're still underground. But the Mayor said he was preparing to go get it before he sent me up here, so they haven't taken it. But I bet they'll try. I don't know when, but they're pretty desperate to leave."
Who wouldn't be? Amaya sighed, relieved. But at least that is good news. We may still have time and… wait, what do you mean he sent you up here?
"Never mind, it's not important. So where's your Hive? Is it far?"
She didn't try to call him out, that would come later. She reached down and ripped away some grass stalks, clearing a space between them. Humming to herself, she dipped a claw into the dirt there and started drawing. Maddox asked her what she was doing but she didn't answer at first.
She started with a long, vertical line off to the side. We are here, on the coast. She tapped halfway down the line and drew an X. The Capitol is here, to our west. She sketched down a few packs of squares. Maddox grabbed a handful of nearby stones and put them over the marks, to add some depth to the map. There was a strange, but pleasant feeling of nostalgia flowing through her body as Amaya worked with him. They were kids again, working on something they both enjoyed in their own private nook of the world. Only now the world was dead, but she didn't let that spoil the mood.
Ringing around the Capitol were huge scatterings of suburbs, indicated by pebbles and rocks. My Hive is to the north of the Capitol. Here. She circled a portion of the map, to the northwest of their coastal position. She didn't know what scale she was using, but they both knew the distance would be far.
"That's a lot of suburbs to cover," Maddox said. "I remember the place was a maze, even before all this."
We won't get lost, Amaya said. That ship behind you? I watched it fall from the sky all those years ago. It left a massive trench when it landed, dangerously close to my Hive. She dragged her fingers from the map-Hive down to the coast, creating a miniature chasm in the dirt to represent it. We can follow its trail all the way back to the Hive's front door. Well, front cavemouth, but you know what I mean.
Maddox nodded at that, never taking his eyes off the map. "Following the trench the whole way will chew through our time, though. What if we just cross through the Capitol?" He tapped on one of the stone piles representing the tall buildings off to their west. "It'll be faster, and the Bunker guys will probably go through there, too." He circled a space just south of the Capitol, and the distance was unmistakable even if it was just a drawing. If the Bunker were to head for the Hive they would indeed get there faster than if they circled around.
She sent him a hard-negative for emphasis to this idea. They would go right through the heart of the Capitol, and I've been there before, Maddox. That place is evil. It is the very source of the decay that's all around us. Horrible creatures I haven't even seen in nightmares lurk in that place. If your Mayor decides to go through it, he will perish. No, Maddox, we cannot go that way. Trust me on that.
Maddox went to ask her what sorts of creatures were there, and why she'd gone there in the first place, then decided he didn't want to know. "If you say so." He paused for a second, giving the map, and the bleak world surrounding them a long look. "Scary creatures, packs of dogs, everyone out of their mind and fighting for survival. Man, to think all this shit happened because I made a stupid class report on you." He huffed. "Talk about school being the worst."
It's not your fault, Amaya said. You couldn't have known.
"Yeah," he said, gazing out at the piss-yellow sea. "Still, the blame's on me. I could have done things differently; I could have stopped all this from happening if I just-"
Maddox. She cut him off. If I've learned one thing in my time apart from you, it's that asking what could have been, only increases the burden we carry. I won't sit by and watch you fall down that same pit. Don't try and shoulder all the blame of this world. I'm right here. Share it with me. The fault is mine, as much as it is yours.
"I…" He sighed and said nothing for a long time. She peered into those hidden, grey eyes of his and almost lost herself trying to imagine them. "Okay," he said at last. "You're right. We were just kids, but still… never mind. You're a charm, Amaya." He held up his hand and listed on his fingers, his tune changing. "So just to recap, it's shipwreck, trench, Hive, then escape." He shook his head. "It sounds easy when you say it out loud."
With you by my side, I think it will be. She unfolded her legs and rose to her full height, at least three heads taller than her companion. Casting her gaze up, she noted the sun was on the decline behind the cloudy veil, but there was still time to make some progress before nightfall. Shall we go now?
"We shall." He got up and brushed his pants, making sure his machete was secured on his back, pistol stuck secure next to his pouch, to which he stuffed his bottle and meatstick rations inside. Amaya would have to ask him where he'd got all that, among all the other things they had to talk about. Just as she was about to set off, Maddox called after. "Hey, Amaya?"
She looked back at him. Yes?
"Did I say how good it was to see you again?" He smiled.
She smiled back. You did, but I don't mind if you keep reminding me. Didn't I promise I would come back for you?
She just wished she hadn't taken so long.