Notes:
Yes, I removed both MvP and Earthbound. I have my reasons for that. Partially it was getting off into the weeds, partially it was some negative feedback, and moret ahn partially it was feeling a lack of connection to the story as times have changed. And, I get that. This is another attempt at this, despite hammering away very sporadically. The fact of the matter is that I don't particularly get the time or urge to write very often. My life situation has changed very drastically since I first started writing Zero Point about twelve years ago. I've got a career. I've got very time consuming, expensive hobbies(that project car life, I tell you…). I'm looking to become a homeowner sometime next year. I've dealt with highs and lows, gains and losses, the inexorable march of time as it leads us to our unknown fates and the consequences of where those fates end up. It's something I have been thinking about recently.
I will be somewhat blunt here; something I probably should have been doing before. I'm doing this as a bit of an escape from my day-to-day; especially given current events and the Hunter Thompson-level bender the world has been tearing through the past six months. While I've been stuck at home(and somewhat before) I've pored through quite a few of my writing fragments and snippets. Most of those will never see the light of day, but I think I have started to shape this into something coherent.
Yes, this is going to be a Mature rating. No, it probably won't feature adult content. However, it will be a somewhat darker story overall and some bits might get disturbing. I won't release things on set schedules; I'm also not someone who promises regular updates according to my whims, workloads, and my primary focus of restoring '80s sports cars to regain some of the magic of my youth. As it stands, I'll release this story and hope it stands on its own merit. If not, well, it is what it is. I'm writing this primarily for me; if I grow tired of it, well, I grow tired of it. On that note, on with the show.
Destination: Sauria
Act 1: Crisis
Chapter 1: Arrival
Bright white light illuminated the blacktop rushing past my windshield at a brisk pace; I had a lot of time to make up. I was traveling late enough that there was very little traffic on the road; frankly there was very little traffic in the rugged terrain of Western Colorado in general. Dusk had faded to twilight; casting an indigo hue to the sky against which you could barely ascertain the broken outlines of mountains. It was later than I wanted to be, but a last-minute outage at work had to be taken care of before I could spend the next two weeks on a well deserved vacation.
I was supposed to have met friends at the trailhead about three hours ago; after much begging and cajoling they had finally gotten me to agree to try a few days of camping and four-wheeling. The problem was that I didn't own a suitable vehicle for most of the technical trails my friends had decided to take to their chosen campsite. The vintage Toyota truck I left at my house was only 2WD; that and it came equipped with all-season tires more suited to dry pavement. My daily driver could make it some of the way, but its AWD system lacked the more rugged low range systems of my friends' more serious trail rigs. I didn't want to beat the tar out of my runabout trying to reach their campsite, especially not after dark.
I glanced down at the clock and muttered under my breath. I still had just under two hours to go. Cell reception in the mountains was very spotty; enough to know that chances of reaching Seth or Megan would be minimal. They knew I was going to be late, but I never got a reply to the text I had sent when I was leaving in the first place. We did have a backup plan just in case I arrived super late, but I was decidedly not relishing sleeping in my vehicle tonight. I went ahead and tried to call anyway; punching a button on the stereo head unit that was linked to my phone via Bluetooth.
The soft music I had been listening to cut out, replaced by the familiar tone of an outgoing call ringing, followed by my former coworker's recorded voice. "Hey, you reached Seth Wilson in the Networking Depatment. I am out of the office until August 27 with no access to email. If this is an emergency please contact the help desk. If this is a personal call please leave a message and I will get back to you when I am able." A beep sounded shortly afterwards. He probably had no reception, but I would have to try anyway.
"Seth, this is Adam. I'm still on my way, but hit the rush hour getting out of town. If you don't get this I'll be at the spot we agreed upon in the morning. If you get this I'll likely be there by nine-thirty. I should have asked my boss to let me take that failed UPS so we could drag it out to the range and add to its lead content, but that's how the cookie crumbles. Take care; I'll see you soon!" I ended the call and focused on guiding my classic rally rocket down US 50 at a clip that would probably get me a ticket if there were police on the road. I had been lucky so far.
About ten minutes later my luck ran out. It wasn't a set of red-and-blues behind me that caused me to spit out a curse, but the sudden onset of rain. I had lived in Colorado off and on for most of my life and had been used to the typically bipolar weather patterns in the mountains, but this was even strange by comparison. One second I was cruising along and the next the bottom had quite literally dropped out. The headlights bounced off of what looked like a sheer wall of rain, causing me to flick the windshield wipers on full blast. I could barely see the pavement under my wheels; I slowed down as best I could from a brisk 70mph to a 30mph crawl. "God dammit." I let out a sigh to the interior; inaudible over the incessant clatter of the thick, heavy raindrops slamming against my SUV's bodywork and glass. I debated pulling over to let the storm pass but decided to push through; I wasn't going to make myself even later than I already was.
Along with the rain a thick fog had settled over the road. The precipitation was one thing; the presence of fog was completely another. While it wasn't unheard of in the mountains at this time of year it was quite rare. That caused me to slow down even further; growling at the weather system as I basically crawled along at barely 20mph. Well, scratch being able to sleep in a camper tonight. I glanced to the aftermarket stereo I had installed, complete with navigation system. The legend 'Searching for GPS signal' was prominently displayed; the unit still proclaiming my speed to be a fair clip over the posted 60mph limit. That was particularly dissonant, especially because I was practically crawling at this point. "Well, shit." I muttered. "Rain delay it is."
I had just about given up, making my way for the shoulder of the highway when it hit. Experienced drivers will understand what I'm talking about; that sudden feeling when you've lost traction. The tires shuddered as I hit a patch of gravel; I was going slowly enough that I was able to countersteer my way out of an impending skid; tires scrabbling at the surface of the road as I gave the engine some extra throttle to compensate. I bit back another curse as I continued to slow down. The rain was relentless; it started coming down even harder than before. A downpour became a sheer torrent; as I came to a stop I felt the wheels slide a little bit farther. That was odd. Did I somehow go completely off the road and end up in the grass? I frowned at that and pulled the e-brake, my sigh lost among the nearly deafening patter of rain upon the bodywork.
I glanced at the gauge cluster to make sure everything was okay. I had traveled about thirty miles on my tank; for a small SUV it was pretty fuel efficient so I had no concerns there. I had most of a tank left, but I didn't want to waste it idling at the side of the road. The tach held steady at 750; right where it was supposed to be. The water temperature gauge also read nominal; the lack of warning lights on the dash also meant I didn't have a tire puncture or a catastrophic loss of oil pressure. I let it sit for a minute; a habit I'd developed with my vehicle's rarer turbocharged cousin before I shut the engine off. I hoped I was far enough off the road to not get hit by an errant driver, though I had a feeling anyone else going through this freak storm would be doing what I just did.
I shut the lights off; needing a jump-start out here would delay me even further. I plucked my phone from its resting place on the passenger seat and consulted its display. I would have called Seth again, but the legend 'No Service' displayed at the top left corner put a stop to that plan. "Jesus Christ." I hissed, setting the electronic tether back down. There wasn't much left to do but wait; accompanied only by the staccato assault of the thunderstorm that raged all around me. I queued up some music on my phone, the tinny speakers blaring out the classic riffs of No Time by The Guess Who in defiance. I sang along with Burton Cummings, if only to stave off the feelings of frustration and isolation. "No time for a summer friend, no time for the love you send; seasons change and so did I…" The lyrics were definitely fitting.
It took about half an hour for the rain to finally slack off; the machine-gun rattle gradually falling to a gentle patter. I gave my phone one last look, grumbling as it just wouldn't connect to service. It didn't make much sense; even in a rural area like this well-traveled corridors didn't have massive dead spots. Come to think of it, I hadn't even been passed by another car. I shrugged, pushing in the clutch and turning the key. My trusty Toyota growled to life without so much as a hiccup, the familiar sound of the twin-cam a comforting friend in the darkness. I flicked on the headlights…
…and was greeted with a very incongruous scene. I was supposed to be on a paved highway, not mired in a mud hole. What the hell? Did I somehow duck onto a service road while pulling over? I couldn't see how I could have done that, especially since I was paying attention to the road conditions. The path ahead was definitely muddy to the point of glistening; it was better than an off-road jeep trail but not by much. Trees closed in on the path; dense forest threatening to reclaim the road which had scarred it. Frankly, it looked like I was on a logging track of some sort. Thankful that I had invested in some lighting upgrades, I pushed in the clutch and gently glided my vehicle forward.
I didn't get far. Even though I was driving an SUV suited to winter weather and mild offroad trails I wasn't making much headway. Muddy roads wouldn't normally be a problem, but somehow I had gotten myself bogged down. "God-fucking-dammit!" I spat, easing onto the gas just to experience my older RAV4 fishtail a bit; the tires just didn't have enough bite to get going. The engine roared in defiance to the road conditions that held it in place, but it was to no avail. "Just exactly what I fucking needed!" With a few more curses I shut the engine off, flicking the dome light on to look inside the interior.
I would need to get back to the highway, somehow. I checked the navigation screen again to see if I could get my bearings; the unit was still trying to figure out where it was. I was starting to get concerned. I needed to get to a place with cell reception. Seth's truck could easily pull my RAV4 out; I could try to get a hold of him or I could try for roadside assistance. Either way, it still meant I was going to be stuck out in the middle of nowhere for several hours. Another thought occurred to me; I could easily be stuck out here until morning. I figured it wouldn't hurt to be prepared.
I twisted around to look at the back seat. I had tumbled half of the modular rear seat forward, allowing access into the cargo compartment. I had packed fairly heavily and some of the bulkier items didn't quite fit neatly. I had also brought a few firearms to go plinking with my buddies; I hadn't been to the range in months and figured I could take the rust off my shooting skills. With the tinted windows, tonneau cover and the darkness it should be safe; I doubted anyone would even be out here until I returned with a tow. Among the firearms and range bag I had also brought other things; camping gear, food, and plenty of water. I debated bringing the sleeping bag I had purchased a few days before, but didn't feel like carrying it around. I opted for my jacket and the backpack I had brought with me as a carry-all and tablet case.
In addition to the iPad I mainly used to listen to music and read ebooks, I had stored a couple of high-capacity USB battery packs and a solar-powered USB charger. If I was going to spend a better part of two weeks in the great outdoors, I wanted the option to catch up on some reading and unwind with some tunes. Nestled in the backpack was a small toolkit, a couple changes of clothes, some snacks, a decent flashlight and a few more D-cell batteries for it as well as a spare magazine and a fifty-round box of self-defense rounds for my carry pistol. It added some weight to the bag, but I didn't want my defense loads to get mixed up with my target loads. Giving some thought to what I might need, I grabbed two bottles of water to stuff in the bag as well as all of the beef jerky and some of the energy bars I had brought. Call it paranoia, but I had a strange feeling about all of this. I tucked an additional bottle of water into an interior pocket of my jacket. After that I felt about ready.
I did a quick mental check of what I had on me in addition to the pack. My wallet was in another pocket of my jacket; that held my cards, license and about three hundred dollars in cash. My phone was tucked into another jacket pocket and my car keys were in my hand. I patted my waist, feeling the reassuring weight of my handgun tucked into my jacket; ready if I needed it. I had two extra magazines stuffed into another pocket; I was as prepared as I was going to get. My sanity check complete, I shut off the lights and exited the SUV.
The darkness was almost total; my eyes took a little time to adjust. Faint starlight gave me barely enough to see by, reflecting off the silver bodywork of my vehicle. My 2004 Toyota RAV4 stood mired in the mud; dark stains splashed against the fenders and doors. I frowned at the sight and sighed; the feeling like I was abandoning a friend gnawed at the back of my mind. I pressed the lock button on the key fob; a dissonant beep accompanied by a soft clunk echoing from the doors a confirmation that the power locks had done their job. My boots sunk into the soft mud, creating unsettling squelching noises as I crossed to the back of the SUV. I made sure the rear door was locked; cognizant of the fact I had firearms and ammunition inside. My rifle case was locked and the only key was on my keyring, but I didn't particularly want a smash-and-grab to happen. Criminals getting their hands on my guns notwithstanding, I also had a few thousand dollars in computer gear stored in the hatch; I needed to check my work email periodically and keep in touch with my boss just in case the outage earlier wasn't a fluke.
Turning away from my SUV, I extracted the flashlight from my backpack and turned it on. The LED made short work of the abject darkness; revealing the dirt path ahead. Turning back was the logical choice; I couldn't be that far from the highway. To save battery life and my eyesight, I thumbed the power button a few times until the flashlight's low power mode activated. According to the user manual it would likely work for most of a week straight, so I was set. As I trudged forward I was thankful that I had put on my hiking boots; I was sinking up to my ankles in the mud. The abject silence was only broken up by the sounds of insects and other wildlife I didn't recognize. Silence never sat right with me; something about it was very unsettling. Maybe it was a painful reminder of an empty house and the cold loneliness that it brought; maybe it was just the fact I was a city boy and grew up around traffic, aircraft, construction and sirens creating a background soundtrack to my life. I connected my earbuds to my phone and queued up the music I had been listening to; mindful to only keep one of them in. I might have been taking a risk of getting snuck up on by a mountain lion or something, but I wasn't going to leave myself totally clueless. Keeping things to low volume I kept a good visual scan going and my flashlight moving; I figured the noise and light would keep anything dangerous away. I settled into a rhythm and kept moving forward. I probably only had a couple hundred yards to go until I got back to pavement.
A couple hundred yards my ass. I had grown pretty damn concerned the farther I went. Ten minutes became thirty; thirty became an hour, and that hour had passed a pretty long time ago. I glanced to my watch as the late Tom Petty's voice sang low in my ear about a face in the crowd, noting with consternation that it was nearly midnight. Still no phone service, still not even a whisper of civilization. The only good thing was that the mud had lasted maybe a mile or two and I had been walking on solid dirt for a pretty good chunk of time. The air was still and humid with a slight chill to it. Something wasn't right, but I wasn't about to speak that out loud. By this point my piece was a comforting weight by my side. I was starting to wonder if I should spend some time backtracking; maybe go back to my RAV4 and get my rifle.
Another strange occurrence happened. I could have sworn the sky was getting lighter as time went on; the obsidian night giving way to faint indigo. That was pretty strange in and of itself; daylight wouldn't be happening for at least a few more hours. At this point the only way out was through. I was on a road, so I should come across some sort of building or vehicle eventually, right?
What I came across was neither, but I was right about a very early dawn. About forty-five minutes later the dirt road ended at a T-intersection with a track of multi-colored cobblestones. My eyes narrowed with suspicion as I looked up to the sky; one that had passed through indigo straight to the muted gray of a coming dawn. I had no goddamn idea where I was or what was going on, but I needed help. I glanced to my phone for the seven-thousandth time and wasn't particularly surprised I didn't have service. Just fucking marvelous.
I emerged onto the cobblestone path, scanning up and down its length. It stretched on farther than I could see, but I saw my first hint of civilization near the intersection. It looked like a road sign; several planks expertly fixed into a stout wooden pole at the opposite end of the road. It looked like something straight out of Skyrim. Maybe I wandered into some rustic, out of the way subdivision or someone's private land; with a road sign I could at least walk my ass back to the highway.
The hair on the back of my neck prickled as I aimed the flashlight onto the road signs. It wasn't written in English; hell, it wasn't even written in Roman characters. The script looked like some strange mixture of Sanskrit and Arabic; either way it wasn't anything I could even remotely decipher. I dared speak; adopting a low, astonished tone as I glanced around warily. "What in the hell…" Call it a gut instinct, but I was starting to realize that something was very, very wrong.
Wherever I was, I had a choice to make. Left or right? I tried my phone once more, but even its built-in compass application didn't want to cooperate. It kept spinning around; practically useless. The choice was literally a coin toss; I pulled an errant quarter out of a jacket pocket and flipped it. I went right, keeping the flashlight aimed ahead of me as I scanned the road ahead. At least my music was still playing, Zakk Wylde's voice and haunting guitar work giving tribute to Layne Staley an oddly fitting tune to the dark, confused mood I found myself in.
Thirty minutes later I had shut off the flashlight as the sky became light enough to see by. I glanced at my watch once again; it wasn't even two in the morning yet. I was growing pretty tired, regretting my decision to not lug that sleeping bag. I had considered going back to the RAV4, but the trek back would take a couple of hours. Frankly, I was kinda fucked; the growing pit of worry in my stomach starting to grow into full-fledged fear. I was alone; isolated well past the safe comforts I had at home or in my vehicle. I was armed, but a fat lot of good that would do me. Unfortunately, I was about to find out the very high cost of being distracted and worried about my situation.
I may have had a chance if I was listening and watching like I had been earlier. I could have had my gun out and given my assailants a fight. Maybe they would have got me, but I would have been able to put a couple of them down. As it was I didn't look up until I heard the thundering footfalls coming from my right, among the dense forest that lined the cobblestone road. In the early light the last thing I remembered was a flash of something green, brown and massive in my peripheral vision. Past that, I remembered nothing.
I've had the wind knocked out of me on a few occasions, and I've taken a couple of pretty heavy hits to the head. I've never been knocked out before, however. Needless to say, I don't recommend it. I awoke to an excruciating headache and blurry vision. The right side of my head felt like I had taken a hook from Mike Tyson. My ribs ached when taking a breath and the damp, stale air I was breathing stank of unwashed bodies and the faint scent of what might have been piss. I wasn't entirely sure. The faint, unsettling sound of creaking wood and howling wind wasn't making me comfortable, either.
I was also pretty damn cold. Shivering, in fact. The air clung to my bare skin, revealing another fact. I had been stripped. I had been wearing clothes before, though I could tell I was at least still wearing my underwear. That was one embarrassment I didn't particularly want to endure at that point. I tried to move my hands. They were bound behind my back at the wrists; thick, crude rope that wasn't exactly going to yield to my efforts any time in the next century. My ankles were similarly bound. Despite the crushing headache that particular revelation snapped me fully awake.
"What the hell?" I exclaimed as I looked around. The dimly lit scene was dismaying; I was caught somewhere between a medieval torture chamber and the bowels of a pirate ship. The small room I was in looked like it had been used as a stable at one point. I was lying in a bed of straw, surrounded by chest-high wooden walls. I couldn't see much past that, and by the way I was trussed up I wasn't going to be able to stand. That was the icing on the irritation cake, as straw was working itself into some very sensitive areas and I was starting to itch. "This isn't funny, assholes! Now let me out of here, goddammit!" Somebody had to be responsible for this.
There wasn't a response to my calling out. I wasn't sure how long I waited, possibly half an hour. I figured I had to do something to stand up and survey my surroundings. It took a while, but I managed to scoot up against one of the walls and force myself up. The wooden wall scraped against my back and I got splinters in my palms from doing it, but I managed to get upright.
Now that I could feel my balance the gentle, unpredictable swaying that almost put me on my ass several times seemed to indicate I was on a ship of some sort. That and the creaking of wood supported that theory. The room my 'cell' was in looked like a set of stables, and comprised a pretty good chunk of the ship's deck space. There were a few haphazard crates stacked here and there. In all honesty the place was a mess. Something in particular caught my eye, a set of shelves near the tapered 'bow' area of the deck. Among the piles of burlap I could see a flash of blue. I couldn't make it out entirely in the dim light, but was that my clothing?
Another question came to mind. If that was my clothing, had I been carrying at the time? The answer was yes. If they hadn't removed everything I should have been carrying my phone, wallet, keys, and tablet bag(complete with its assorted goodies). More importantly, my handgun and spare ammo! I wasn't thinking clearly at that point, otherwise I would have spent more time wondering exactly how the hell I had been shanghaied when I was driving through a landlocked state. The burning question I had, however, is could I get out of here to reach it?
I was never an athlete or gymnast. I'm a slightly overweight IT guy in my early 30s. I had a bum knee and I had been sitting at a desk job for the past few years. I'd lost even the slight edge that a more active retail job gave me. I wasn't a sedentary blob; I worked on cars as a hobby and wrenching required a decent reserve of strength and flexibility. However, trying to hook my arms over the wall of the stable and pull myself up was going to be a disaster. My ribs screamed bloody murder at me, but I somehow managed to do it. By hooking my legs underneath me I managed to shimmy partway up the wall, at least until I lost my balance. I wasn't really sure what happened; I must have slid forward and hit my head on the wall.
I awoke again in that pile of dirty straw, my head hurting even worse. Some time had apparently passed, as there was something else on the floor with me. Two roughly-made metal bowls; one with water and one with some sort of minced-up, foul-smelling mass that was probably food. I was either being treated like a prisoner or a pack animal. The 'food' looked positively disgusting and despite feeling somewhat peckish I wasn't going to touch it. The water, however? I was thirsty, so I rolled over to it and took a drink.
I reflexively coughed. The water was brackish, almost too salty to stand. The recurring thought in my mind that I needed some sort of strength to get out of this strange predicament drove me to drink anyway. I took a second glance at the mixed, well, slop in the other bowl. "I'm not that hungry." I muttered. I gulped down the water as best I could, collapsing back onto the dirty straw when I was finished. "Fine fucking mess I got myself into." I felt like I was going to throw up, and I felt compelled to stay still until the nausea passed.
I'm not sure how long I laid there, mind racing with questions and speculation. I had gotten jumped or something, that much was obvious. But, by who? And, for what reasons? If they wanted to jack my vehicle, they could've lifted my keys and taken off. Hell, if they wanted me dead they could have just shot me. Whoever they were, they weren't the police. This wasn't looking good. I needed to figure these details out before things got much worse. I had a feeling this was only the beginning.
I needed to get out of here. My thoughts went to my possessions, which I thought I saw across the way. After a recent carjacking in the parking garage at my office, I had taken to carrying where I could. In my state, kidnapping was a serious enough offense to allow the use of deadly force to defend against. I wanted to get home, to see my family and friends again. If that meant using a kind word and a gun, I would do it. I just had to somehow vault over that wall to do it.
I scooted up to the wall, preparing to lift myself into a standing position as I heard footfalls. They shook the floor, like they were being made by a fat man wearing clunky boots. By the sound of it, there were two of them. The identity of my captors wouldn't be a secret for long. I wished they had remained so.
They were about a foot or so taller than me; giant, stocky lizardmen in rudimentary armor. I recoiled at the sight of them; they must have had a hundred pounds on me and were likely pure muscle. I wouldn't stand a chance against them in a fair fight. "Jesus fuckhole!" I hissed, instinctively scooting towards the farthest corner of the stable-like structure I was in. "What the fuck are you guys?"
The lizardmen chuckled at my reaction, motioning in my direction. The one to the left started speaking; the flowing language sounded strangely familiar but I was still unable to make sense of it. "Iwc0 medbo0 kxadw aj jkacc ucalo. Thudb racwo nukoh. Tatd'k ouk jshufj. Nx0 no kubo ak nakx ij?"
The other one responded, peppering his dialog by pointing to me and off in a random direction. "Rejj nudkj ak veh... nxuk tat xo succ ak? Semradukaed? Sedvijaed? Ex, kxuk'j hawxk! Sedlohjaed!"
The first one slammed a brick-sized fist on the wall, causing it to shake. I yelped, gritting my teeth for what may have been the last time. Laughter peeled from the lizardman, making another remark in its alien tongue. "Edso no tedo nakx Ouhkxnucbohj, no kubo ak ke sedlohjaed fcuso. Cok Rejj touc nakx ak. Utt ke uhm0..."
The lizardman was cut off as a violent vibration shook the entire structure, followed by a muffled explosion. Had I been standing I would have been knocked on my ass again. Another explosion rocked the structure, followed by indistinct shouting coming from above. The second lizardman turned his attention from me, bellowing something in response. "Nxuk weadw ed?"
The response from above was muffled, but I could make out the words. "Wiuht fhajedoh! No roadw ukkusbot! Jemokxadw ed Sceithiddoh jxeek ij!" Two more explosions and vibrations threatened to shake the entire structure apart; it felt like the ship was getting hit by rockets. The lizardmen looked nervous. As much as I wanted to engage in what would have been perfectly justifiable shadenfreude, the truth of the matter was I was about as scared as they looked.
The first lizardman roared back. "U Sceithiddoh? Xoho? Amfejjarco!" They moved out of sight as the structure we were in shuddered again. Their voices grew hushed as the explosions stopped. I could hear the snarling roars of what I assumed were more lizardmen, coupled with another, far softer voice shouting from above. The roars turned into pained groaning and the clanging of what could have only been melee weapons echoed. The fact there was no gunfire was alternately comforting and disturbing. There was less chance that I would get hit by a stray round, but that also meant that I would be pretty ill-equipped to deal with things if I managed to escape. I struggled against the ropes binding me, but I managed to get back into a standing position. The lizardmen had their backs to me. I fervently wished I had my piece. It would have been such an easy shot to make.
It was hard to make out what happened in the dim light; a cerulean and gold blur shot into the room through a series of stairs I could barely see. A sickening crack echoed off one of the lizardmen and it hit the deck, yowling in agony as I could see blood streaming from its temple. My attention was then transfixed to the newcomer; it was then I realized exactly where I somehow was, exactly who they were, and just how absolutely and inexplicably fucked I was.
The anthropomorphic vixen that stood in the middle of the room was a little shorter than me. Athletically built, she moved with the confidence of a dancer or MMA fighter; a disturbing snarl etched onto her features as she stared down her opponents with a look of barely suppressed fury. Her eyes were an admittedly mesmerizing shade of blue, yet even with the dim light and distance I could plainly see the flash of anger within. She was about as dressed as I was; a simple top and loincloth preserved her modesty and a set of bracers and pauldrons provided what looked like minimal protection. Her staff was held at the ready, and I noticed blotches of blood staining its business end. There was no mistaking the scene playing out before me. The lizardmen had to be Sharpclaw, the reptilian antagonists of Starfox Adventures. The female fox was Krystal, one of the protagonists of the series. Only this time she didn't look like the scared damsel in distress the game depicted. She looked like she was about to kick ass and chew bubble gum.
The Sharpclaw that she had smacked the crap out of struggled to his feet, growling threats at the vixen. She responded in kind, her voice snapping forth before she launched herself at them. She ducked a clumsily-swung club, only to hammer the Sharpclaw soldier with a fierce swat. In a move that I wasn't expecting she followed up with a vicious jab to the lizardman's throat; a nauseating crunch and a choking gurgle emitting from the fatally wounded enemy as it crumpled to the ground. My jaw dropped down in shock as she ducked another series of swings from the previously wounded Sharpclaw survivor. It let its guard down and she stabbed it in the chest, ripping the staff away in a flash of blood and gore that threatened to make me puke up the saltwater I had gulped down earlier.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" I managed to exclaim as she glanced down to her now-deceased quarry. Krystal's attention snapped from her handiwork and to me, the vixen warily making her way over to the 'stable' that held me; the weapon that had easily ended my captors' lives held at the ready. I wondered if I had made a fatal error in judgment; the Sharpclaw could have killed me pretty quickly but I was well aware that Krystal was on another level. She could have probably offed me with as much effort as I needed to step on an ant; frankly I wouldn't have favored my odds against her even if my hands were untied and I was armed with my handgun.
She let the staff down, her snarling expression softening as she looked me over. I wasn't an expert in body language, but she looked wary and perhaps… curious? She reached for something on the door, a rattle of chains slipping off of something followed by a clunk on the wooden floor. The door swung open and she took a step inside. Her voice lacked the fury from earlier, a tone of concern replacing it. "Uho 0ei ebu0? 0ei ceeb adzihot!"
"I don't understand you, sorry." I responded, the hope that she somehow spoke English fading away as she decided to address me in what was obviously either Saurian or Cerinian. "Look, I know I don't look like a centerfold model and it's probably gonna take a splash of eye bleach and a bottle of top shelf bourbon to get rid of the sight of my pasty ass, but I would really appreciate it if you untied me?" I figured this situation called for some sort of levity. The thought that I was in a coma or dead crossed my mind; it was the only way I could explain this particular experience. Krystal wasn't quite a Valkyrie, but I was certain there were far worse ways to spend one's dying moments.
"Is this your language?" Krystal replied in clear yet hesitant English, her Estuary accent adding a touch of class to what was a confusing, horrible situation. "Are you okay? You look injured!" She stepped closer to me, her fingertips falling to the side of my head. I winced and hissed in pain as she felt around; she recoiled slightly and I could see a bit of a blush coming to her ears. "How long have you been here?"
"I… I don't know." I really didn't. A day, maybe two? "It's a blur. I don't know what happened, or why they wanted me." I was feeling pretty conscious of my rather exposed position and wasn't particularly comfortable with it. "I just want to get out of here."
"I should be able to make that happen. Turn around?" I complied, and I felt my hands being grasped. The contact was a bit shocking even if it was expected, the softness of fur a stark counterpoint to the stiff ropes that were being manipulated. In a moment my hands were free; I stifled another wince as the blood rushed back to them; the pins and needles feeling almost intolerable. My ankles were next, the ropes falling away a sheer relief.
"God, that stings." I continued to rub my wrists, leaning against the side of the stable in support. After a moment I got to my feet, following the Cerinian out of my makeshift cell. "Thank you. I owe you one." Another thought crossed my mind; following that train took me across the bottom deck of what I now realized was Scales' airship. The vixen had followed me, warily glancing towards the stairs. Things were perhaps too quiet. I was in luck for once; my clothes and backpack had been stashed in a haphazard pile on the shelf. My leather jacket felt reassuringly heavy; patting the side confirmed the presence of my piece. "Not to come off as ungrateful, but may I get a little privacy? I don't particularly feel comfortable dressing in front of you."
Krystal nodded. I couldn't really decipher her expression, but the insides of her ears became a bit red. Embarrassment? "I can do that, stranger. The Queen Cloudrunner's daughter is being held on this ship. I need to free her, but that shan't take long. Meet me on the top deck when you're dressed?"
"Deal." I set my jacket aside, grabbing my pants from the shelf. As she turned around something else came to mind. "Once again, thank you. Be careful? I'll be up there to lend a hand as soon as possible." The vixen smiled, nodding in assent before bounding up the stairs. This left me alone to get rid of the worst of the straw poking into some really sensitive areas and to get dressed. After slipping my jeans on I pulled the holster out of the jacket and checked my handgun. While driving I typically carried my handgun in the inside pocket of my jacket or in the console. If I was going to be walking around, it went in the waistband of my pants.
My weapon of choice was a Glock 26; a compact 9mm automatic. It was small enough to be easily concealed and was what I wore when I didn't feel like carrying the extra bulk of my larger Glock 19. While some considered the 9x19mm round anemic for self defense, I was proficient enough to be confident with it. I stuck the holster inside my waistband and continued dressing. While my choice of T-shirt, jeans, aloha shirt, backpack and leather jacket wasn't exactly jungle explorer gear, it would suffice. Either way, if I remembered what was going to happen in the events of the game my new vixen ally was about to get into a spot of trouble.
I couldn't hear much over the howling wind and pattering of rain, except for the thumping and clattering above deck. And, hell, it took me a little time to get dressed. It was like waking up late for work, only this time I was in a goddamn video game and my ass was on the line. I pulled my jacket tighter around me as I emerged on the deck, pistol in hand. I had a total of eighty-one rounds: eleven in the gun, two loaded ten-round magazines, then the fifty-round box in my bag. Against an army of lizardmen the size of your average NFL linebacker, that didn't seem like a lot. At least they were my hot +P defensive loads and not the target stock I had back in my RAV4.
My little 9mm was all that was standing between me and certain death, though. I'd been sitting in an office cube for the past few years, growing fat and happy. I wouldn't last ten seconds up close with a Sharpclaw without it gutting me like a fish. Furthermore, their big boss was on board. Whatever was going down, I didn't think a few hollowpoints would be enough.
In the game, Krystal would confront Scales. He would throw her off the ship, she would be lucky enough to be caught by that Cloudrunner and they would fly off. If that happened before I caught a ride I would be forced to fight a battle I had little chance of winning. The other outcome I was worried about was her getting killed outright. As I reached the top deck I was made aware of exactly how likely that scenario was. She was fighting without her staff, now; I figured he had disarmed her somehow and tossed it over the side.
The Cerinian vixen was facing off with Scales. The fucker was at least ten feet tall and built of solid muscle. The palm of his right hand was easily larger than a dinner plate. His left was gone; in a sick and twisted parody of Captain Hook it was replaced with a twin set of blades that were about as large as short swords. Those blades swiped down, narrowly missing her as she dodged with uncanny speed. A split second later she delivered a kick aimed for his knee, which was barely deflected. She moved like greased lightning, never standing still and always going on the attack. In a split instant I had confirmed she could have put me on the floor within seconds, handgun or no.
Unfortunately for her she wasn't fighting me. She was fighting a giant lizardman that was built like a brick shithouse and didn't play by the rules. As I closed some of the distance his hand shot out like a piston, catching Krystal by the throat and lifting her up into the downpour. He roared something in Saurian yet instead of dragging her to the railing he just stood there, watching her struggle.
I tried to get in closer, but the pitching of the deck and the sliding crates were making it hard. Neither of them seemed to notice me. I looked up after a moment and my blood ran cold as I realized exactly what Scales was doing. Krystal's struggles intensified; her legs kicking out against an arm that approached the diameter of a small tree trunk, her hands desperately trying to pry his fingers away. He was going to strangle her to death.
I needed a better line of fire; fully aware of the fact if I shot and missed I would likely hit her instead. Seconds felt like minutes as I struggled over crates, closing the distance from twenty-five yards to about ten in what seemed like an eternity. Her legs had stopped kicking, her arms falling limply away from the bastard's hand. If I didn't do something now she was going to die. I steadied my pistol with my off hand, set the sights over Scales' side and started firing.
The handgun thundered its response into the storm, four loud reports echoing in the air as I made my presence known. Scales lurched a bit, dropping her as I shifted my aim upward. The little bit of training I had asserted itself. Stop the threat. The Sharpclaw General let out a growl that could have stopped a lion in its tracks, wheeling around as I was shifting the sights onto his face. I pulled the trigger again, letting a fifth round fly. This time he crumpled to the ground. I wasn't sure if I killed him or not, but I damn sure put him out of the fight.
I fumbled through a reload, keeping the Glock trained on his body as I advanced; trying to keep my eyes and ears open for any of his buddies. Between the bucking of the airborne pirate ship and the howling storm I could have been ambushed at pretty much any point. Either there was a decided lack of Sharpclaw on this ship or they were afraid of what my little boomstick could do, but I made it up to the two fallen combatants virtually unopposed.
I couldn't tell if I killed Scales, but he was definitely bleeding profusely. I scored at least two hits on his side, and by the blood on his face I scored a hit there as well. "Chew on that, you fat fuck." I muttered, keeping the weapon trained on him as I glanced to the Cerinian vixen lying on the deck a few yards away. She wasn't moving, which was worrying. I moved over to her, feeling safe enough to put my piece away as I did so. This was turning out to be a pretty fucking bad day.
Krystal was clearly unconscious, but by the rise and fall of her chest she was breathing. Gingerly I ran my fingers through the fur on her throat, searching for a pulse. It wasn't like I knew what I was doing, but I was relieved that she had one. I couldn't tell if it was fast or slow for another human, let alone for a Cerinian. A part of my mind marveled at how soft her fur was, yet that was quickly quashed by the very real concern that we were without a way off this airship.
Taking a deep breath I rolled her over, getting in position to wind my arms around her and pick her up. I offered a silent prayer that my knee wouldn't give out as I stood her up and lifted her into my arms. I'm not going to lie. I was about as out of shape as it got and carrying another person wasn't something I was relishing. I pressed on towards the helm of the ship, gritting my teeth against the oncoming storm.
I wasn't carrying her for long. With a panicked gasp she startled awake; coughing, struggling and lashing out with her hands. "Hey, hey!" I somehow kept her from clocking the hell out of me and falling out of my grasp and onto her face, steadily lowering her into a standing position. "It's okay! I got him off you!"
Krystal glanced around, spotting Scales' still form on the deck. She looked back to me, a confused expression on her features. "How?" Her voice was raspy and strained; her aqua eyes bloodshot and glassy from her brush with death. "Wh… who are you?" She was shaking, holding onto me for stability as I climbed the stairs up to the helm.
"We'll make full introductions later. For now, we need to get off this boat." I didn't want to be rude, but I also didn't want to be here in case Scales got back up. I glanced around the empty deck, the helm held in place by a couple of sturdy ropes. What looked like gun emplacements on the rear of the ship were still smoldering, the Sharpclaw manning them little more than charred husks. Other Sharpclaw bodies littered the deck, having met similar fates to the ones she had dispatched below. That caused me to blink in surprise. "Please tell me you have a ride off this thing."
Krystal nodded; an attempt at answering turning into a short coughing fit. I winced in sympathy. "He... he should be here shortly." She let go of me as we neared the rear deck of the ship, somewhat unsteady on her feet. "You saved my life. Thank you."
"One good turn deserves another. You freed me, and I think that's worth giving El Jefe over there a little what for. You doing okay?" I was running on adrenaline right now, coupled with anger, confusion, and disbelief. How the holy fuck had I ended up here? I was just driving to a vacation spot! I stopped my train of thought as Krystal regarded me with what I assumed was a puzzled expression.
"I'll be okay." Her voice still sounded gravelly and likely would be so for the next couple of days. "You don't look like a Saurian, or even any Lylatians I know about. Where did you come from?"
"Look. I know you probably have a lot of questions for me right now." I paused for a moment, hoping that my next words wouldn't offend or alienate her. If I was stuck here I needed help, and she was pretty much it. "I'm going to be straightforward here. I'd like to keep the details to myself, at least for a little while. Is that okay with you?" I gave her a pleading look, trying to block out the fact I had a real worry that if she found out even half of what I actually knew she would have probably thrown me off the ship herself.
A confused expression greeted my request, but she nodded. "Okay. Your privacy shall be respected, stranger." She paused for a moment; which seemed to be perfect timing as a weary Cloudrunner shot up from beneath the ship, landing on the planking with a tired thump. It startled me despite my expecting it. Krystal called out in Saurian, initiating a conversation with the Cloudrunner as she quickly rifled through the belongings of the dead Sharpclaw.
What did I do? I took a moment to lean against the railing, feeling the adrenaline fade from my body. I was still trying to process what happened, and failed miserably at it. Either I was dreaming, in a coma, or dead. But why did this feel so real? Splinters still dug into my hands and forearms, irritated by the sting of the recoil from the rounds I had just fired. My wrists and ankles still felt rope burn. My head was still pounding and I was in dire need of a handful of Advil. And a stiff drink. Those would be neigh near unobtanium here.
A flash of movement from below caught my eye, and once again it was decidedly not a good thing. The monstrous form of General Scales struggled to get back to his feet, despite the amount of lead I had just forcibly added to his body. I called out a warning to the others. "We gotta get out of here now! That badass is getting back up, and he looks pissed!"
"Quick! Climb on!" Krystal rasped back, vaulting onto the saddle the Cloudrunner wore. I didn't need an engraved invitation to do so, yet the short sword she had been holding onto gave an indication as to what she had been doing. The problem I was going to have was twofold: I had ridden a horse. Once. When I was five years old. And had I mentioned how much I absolutely hated heights? Still, the fear of having my head end up on a pike courtesy of the mountain-sized Saurian that was going to be out for my blood in mere seconds outweighed my fear of heights by a long shot. I jumped onto the Cloudrunner's back, grasping onto the sides of the saddle with all the strength I could muster. I tried to avoid all contact with the scantily-clad vixen sitting in front of me.
That didn't last too long. "No! Place your arms around me, stranger! You'll fall off that way!" I complied somewhat grudgingly, until I noticed she was wearing something like a seat belt attached to the saddle and her sandal-clad feet were cinched into stirrups; some sort of restraint system I didn't have the benefit of. Her fur was damp with the rain yet was still possessed of an almost unnatural softness. As I held onto her I noticed she was unexpectedly warm; her lithe frame also possessing a quiet strength which was alternately expected and surprising. "I'm sorry if the contact is making you uncomfortable, but we have no other choice!"
With a sickening lurch the Cloudrunner leaped into the air; free of any sort of protection the railings of the ship provided the storm started buffeting us almost immediately. My clothing was starting to get damp and I was now fully aware that this was going to be a wild ride. I could see Scales below, limping up the stairs to the deck we were just on. He bellowed something in Saurian; Krystal shooting back with a response that I more felt through her than heard. I grit my teeth against the wind, rain, and the impossible drop below; it kept my mind off of just about anything else. All I knew was that I was in for a long, awkward ride.