Disclaimer: I still don't own 'Level Up' or its characters.
2
Wyatt emerged from the forest into a Daventry Hills that he no longer recognized.
He skidded to a stop in the middle of the street to stare at his town, momentarily forgetting the horde of Tenrecs that was not far behind him. The city had been transformed into something that looked like a hybrid of a medieval village and an alien world from Star Trek…in other words, Daventry Hills had been remade into a city right out of Conqueror Of All Worlds.
Many of the buildings had collapsed-or been knocked down-and rodent-like mutants were crawling around and living in the rubble. He could swear he saw a blue-haired Hampire among them. Some structures had burned down and the rubble still smoldered. Houses were now huts, hovels, or stretched into tall structures that resembled ant hills (with residents that looked like ants) He spied a Scurr queen and her swarm nesting in a honeycomb-like hill of mud. There were tents pitched everywhere, with cooking fires going and pots bubbling over open fires. Smoke billowed in the distance from hundreds of these camp fires burning all across the city-village.
The enormous dome of purple energy covered all of Daventry Hills.
Most disturbingly, there was not a human in sight. There were humanoid monsters, but no humans. Dragons, cockatrices, Skelehawks, and other creatures glided across the dark, purple sky. Mutant peddlers and shopkeepers were everywhere, selling food and other wares, only some of which Wyatt was identify. There were statues honoring "Lord Maldark" everywhere.
He did it. He conquered this world…at least, Daventry Hills, Wyatt mused grimly.
The roar of the Tenrecs reminded Wyatt that not only was he being pursued but that he now stuck out like a sore human thumb in this city of game leaks. The best he could do to start with was pull his jacket hood over his head to hide his face as he hurried made his way to the busy downtown area of the city-village. He shoved the broken chronometer into his pocket, and kept his obviously-human hands tucked there as well. For good measure, Wyatt grabbed a handful of ash from a gutted building and smeared it across his face, hoping that helped. He slung his book bag across his shoulders beneath his jacket, hoping it could pass for a hump, and affected a lump. He prayed that this would make him resemble a Humpback Forest Goon rather than a scared human teenager.
It seemed to be working. The avatar population didn't pay him much mind as he hobbled down the street. But, he still needed a better disguise if he was going to move around the city unnoticed.
Wyatt spied a peddler's cart laden with garments. The merchant was a Chlorephant: Blue skin, one eye, two fingers on each hand, bat-like ears, and a talon protruding from its chin. The talon could be used to choke or snap the neck of an adversary. This Chlorephant, however, was more interested in profit than combat.
The only problem was, Wyatt had nothing remotely like game money to trade for the clothing. Gold was the preferred currency of the game…
Gold. Wyatt fished for his keychain, which was a tiny, gold-plated disk etched with the words: First Prize, Junior Division, Daventry Hills Mathcathelon. It pained him to part with it, but not as much as being pierced by dozens of Tenrec quills would pain him.
He offered it to the freakish peddler. "A human trinket. I'll trade it for your cloak."
"Glorbnab," the peddler answered, talon curling upwards. Wyatt supposed that was a "yes", because the Chlorephant handed over the stinky coat and took the keychain from the teenager.
Wyatt quickly pulled the coat over his hooded sweater. He shuffled along as quickly as he dared, still affecting a hunched position, heading in the direction of where the warehouse used to be. He doubted it was still there. That worried him…he had yet to find an intact house or see a hint of a real human. If the warehouse HQ was no more, he didn't begin to know where to search for Lyle, Dante, or Angie.
The rest of the city was in the same condition-only worse and even more bizarre.
The buildings—those still standing-were a hodgepodge of medieval shacks, futuristic skyscrapers, tent cities, and adobe huts. The plaza across from City Hall was now a playground for Lava Belchers. Their miniature volcanos lined the square, and a dozen of the rock creatures scurried around, spewing molten rock for form new lava domes. Occasionally, one burp hot rocks onto other passing avatars, who in turn would curse in their peculiar dialects and hurl objects at the impish belchers. Wyatt saw at least ten more statues honoring Lord Maldark. The Tenrec guards patrolled every street. When he could not elude them, he ducked into a medieval tavern.
It may have been medieval on the exterior, but on the inside…well, Wyatt felt as if he'd walked into the Mos Eisley cantina from Star Wars. If he wasn't there due to a serious break in reality, if he wasn't confused, seriously weirded out, and being chased by porcupine-men, Wyatt would have been in nerd heaven.
The tavern had relatively modern mugs, glasses, tables, and fixtures, with a few exceptions. It was lit by torches instead of electricity. The furniture ranged in design from twists of steel to carved stone to rotted wood.
The place was also packed, nearly wall-to-wall with game monsters. A quick sweeping glance around the room showed Wyatt several Five-Armed Blood Marauders, more Lava Belchers, sprites, elves, a two-headed Z&Z, and a Mesmer. The latter was an avatar formed of crystal and steel with a t.v.-like screen where its face should have been.
The Mesmer turned its head in Wyatt's direction. He avoided eye contact with the creature. Ducking his head, he took a seat at the bar and made himself as small as possible on the barstool. Mesmers were dangerous. The screens covering their faces could, without warning, display intricate patterns of light that left their victims in highly suggestible states…subject to mind control, forced to answer any question truthfully, and generally no better than zombies.
The bartender—who sported three arms, blue skin, and eyes in the back of his skull-was suddenly standing in front of Wyatt. "You drinking or what?" He slid the boy a drink that smelled and looked like pond scum to Wyatt. Gagging, he took a sip to appease the monster.
The Lava Belchers were in the far corner, seated at a table carved of stone. As they drank liquid that turned to steam inside their mouths, one let out a burp of lava that reduced the cup in its hand to ash.
The bartender point a fat finger at the offender: "Do that again and out you go!"
The Lava Belchers merely uttered laughs that sounded like the rumble of an earthquake.
Wyatt saw Skulks-orange-haired sloth-like monsters-hanging asleep from the slowly-rotating blades of the ceiling fan. One was snoring, causing any patrons who passed close enough to be hit by its breath to fall asleep...and consequently fall to the floor, spilling drinks and breaking glasses. After the fourth patron fell, the bartender pulled a broom from behind the bar and used it to poke at the Skulks.
"Come on, wake up! You're putting my drunks to sleep. Shoo!" he roused them. The Skulks obeyed, but at the rate they 'shooed', Wyatt doubted they'd reach the door until at least dawn.
Discreetly, Wyatt turned his head to take a glance at the other side of the room. That was when he realized he was sitting directly in front of a "Wanted" board. If he'd been able to take another sip of the scum water, he would have spit it out for surprise when he spied Lyle's face on one of the vellum posters pinned there.
At least, he thought it was Lyle, since the drawing made his friend look like a game avatar. The Lyle in the drawing had a shadow of a beard, sunglasses, a scar under his right eye, and his hair was longer and unkempt. The poster read: "Most Wanted: Lyle Hugginson, Thief of the Genesis Orb. Lord Maldark offers a personal reward for the capture of this Dissident."
What's a Genesis Orb? Wyatt didn't remember that from the game.
He scanned the collection of posters. There were no wanted signs for Wyatt or Dante. Wyatt was uncertain if that was a good sign or a bad one. He did find a poster of Angie—the girl in the drawing was just as rough looking as Lyle. The difference was that this notice had a red, diagonal line drawn across the picture. The parchment read: "Most Wanted: Angie Prietto, Instigator." Below that, someone had penciled in: "Executed by the Grinders for the glory of Lord Maldark".
"Angie…" Wyatt felt the blood drain from his face. That couldn't be true…what the hell was going on? Maldark had conquered Daventry Hills, obviously, and maybe all of Earth for all Wyatt knew, but how? Okay, that was also obvious-the Doublebacks altered history. They did something on September 30 of the previous year…something that kept Never Fail from stopping Maldark's invasion. Wyatt tried to remember anything remarkable about last September. Never Fail had not yet formed a year ago. They hadn't even met in the game a year ago. Dante was still the insane kid who rode carts down the school steps, and Lyle was still the football all-star who wouldn't be seen dead with a nerd like Wyatt or admit to playing online games.
Where was Wyatt in this timeline? Where was Dante? And Max Ross? Why hadn't they stopped Maldark's escape? Why didn't they protect Angie?
A scream from the direction of the tables startled Wyatt out of his grim musings. A pair of Five-Arm Blood Marauders had start arguing. They were having an arm wrestling contest-using three arms each-that had turned into a full-out wrestling match. Now, the pair of monsters were rolling around the tavern floor, knocking over furniture and patrons alike. One ripped off the other's fourth arm. His rival howled angrily.
"You did that on purpose, Carsus!" the now-Four Armed Marauder accused.
Carsus smiled a grin missing most of its teeth. "You have four other arms, Argus!"
Argus was not satisfied with that answer. "And I'll be a Four-Arm Marauder?! Allow the whole realm to see my shame?"
With that, Argus snatched his severed arm back from Carsus and used it like a club to start whacking his opponent. The tavern patrons scattered and more furniture was twisted, crumbled, or splintered.
"Every night…" a sprite complained as it hurried out of the bar.
The bartender called to the Mesmer: "Aren't you going to do anything?"
The Mesmer watched the brawl, but did nothing to stop it. Apparently, it is not interested in policing drunks.
The departing sprite snorted. "He won't do anything unless a human shows up."
Wyatt hunched down a little more, pulling his hood further over his face.
"ENOUGH!"
The shout came from the door to the pub, and the voice boomed with such power that the furniture and fixtures shook and pieces of plaster broke off the ceiling. All movement in the room came to a dead stop and every voice fell silent. All eyes turned to the figure standing in the doorway as another game monster entered the bar.
Wyatt could have mistaken the newcomer for a human, if not for the unnatural force of his voice…and the distinctly colonial-era Navy garb he wore. The man was short, portly, and wore glasses, but there was a glint in his eye that warned the brawling Marauders that he could force their obedience to his command. He carried a crate labeled "Live Frogs", which the Skulks stopped and sniffed with interest as they continued their slow trek to the exit.
The Marauders had frozen, mid-tussle.
"I see you know who I am," the portly avatar nodded.
Carsus and Augustus swallowed nervously.
Guy? Wyatt recognized the newcomer now. This was the little game leak that Dante—or rather, Sir Bickle-had helped defeat a Five-Arm Blood Marauder. In the game, Guy was destined to fight and defeat twenty such Marauders. He must have done so in this reality, judging by how the burly Carsus and Augustus were cowed by Guy's presence.
"Begging your pardon, Sir Guy," Carsus bowed slightly. The two combatants backed away from each other and meekly slinked back to their corner.
Then, the Marauders jumped out the window, breaking the wooden shutters. Argus dropped his severed arm on the way out. A dog-like monster darted out from beneath a table and grabbed the arm, scampering happily away with its prize.
Satisfied, Guy forgot the marauders and lugged his crate to the bar. He sat the box on the bar in front of the bartender. "Your usual order, Mr. Ilu, for my usual price."
The bartender, Ilu, all but drooled when he heard and smelled the frogs. It was his customers' favorite dish, live frogs. Without haggling, he stepped into the back room of the tavern and returned with two crates labeled 'human food'. Ilu's giant nose wrinkled up in distaste at the smell of the human food.
"Don't know how you stomach this rot, Sir Guy."
Guy sniffed the food with a smile. "On the contrary, my friend, these are delicacies! Humans may be deplorable creatures, but they produce such delightful morsels."
The Mesmer now turns its head to watch Guy, immediately suspicious.
Guy tried to placate the sentinel avatar. "Nothing to fret about, my good man…"
The Mesmer's crystal face suddenly displayed a kaleidoscope of colors, focusing its hypnotic powers on the little avatar.
Guy's expression became blank and his eyes glassy. He spoke in a robotic tone this time. "…I have the proper permits from Lord Maldark. My people are very similar to humans. They're starving."
Since it was impossible to lie to a Mesmer, the crystal creature accepted this as truth. It ceased the visual assault on Guy. The avatar blinked, released from the spell.
He shook his head, greatly unsettled. "Goodness, but that is unpleasant…" He noticed Wyatt watching him, although he couldn't see the boy too well with the hood covering his face. Guy winked. "…a trick I've discovered with the Mesmers is not to try to hide the truth from them, but rather, control which kernels of truth you share with them."
"I'll try to remember that," Wyatt answered. He tried, and failed again, to sip at the drink Ilu had provided. Guy downed a beverage that smelled faintly of pumpkin and hot sauce with a smile of pure bliss.
Wyatt considered the digital man who was the closest thing to a familiar face that he'd seen yet. He'd been something like a friend of Dante's in the real timeline. Was there the more remote chance their paths had crossed in this alternate universe?
And if he so much as suspected Wyatt was human, was he going to blurt it to the Mesmer that sat not far away?
Before he could talk himself out of it, Wyatt blurted: "You're Guy from Newport, aren't you?"
Guy raised an eyebrow. "Have we met, sir?"
"No, but I've heard you saved your city from like twenty of those Five-Armed Marauders," Wyatt complimented.
The portly man smiled, flattered. "That is, perhaps an exaggeration. Eighteen, nineteen at most. Who told you the tale?"
It was the question Wyatt hoped he'd ask. "A friend. You may know him? Sir Bickle, the knight?"
Guy shook his head. "I'm afraid not. However, what a privilege to be regarded with honor. Thank you, sir."
The Mesmer was not finished. The monster emitted a high-pitched warning tone that captured the attention of every creature in the tavern. Its face plate blinked red light.
Ilu sighed. "Speaking of humans, here we go again."
The Mesmer projected a three-dimensional hologram, and Wyatt received his third rude surprise since entering the pub minutes earlier. The image was that of Lyle's father, Mayor Maynard Hugginson. He was flanked by two Tenrec guards and another Mesmer. He also had the glazed expression of someone under the power of a Mesmer.
"Citizens—a human has been sighted in Maldark Hills. The standard reward is offered for his capture." Briefly, the image of Hugginson was replaced by a grainy photo of Wyatt, caught by a traffic camera as he'd emerged from the park. "I remind to all humans still hiding within the realm: Our gracious lord, Maldark, will gift you with the honor of serving in the copper mines of Krendell or the Gniqu farms or laboring in his weapons factories if you surrender yourself to the Tenrec officers. As Ambassador to our Overlord, I urge you to do so at once. If you do not, you are subject to execution for the glory of Maldark. And a reminder, the avatar who retrieves the Genesis Orb will receive a reward beyond your wildest expectations from Lord Maldark."
The bar's patrons gave the required, in not sincere, response automatically: "The Glory of Maldark!"
Ilu went back to rearranging his bottles and glasses. Guy was absently fiddling with the ring on his pinky finger, as if focusing on it to shut out the message and the horrors it brought to mind. One avatar uttered a soft insult about the broadcast the instant that the Mesmer ceased projecting the message and resumed its silent vigil.
Wyatt discreetly looked at the rebellious monster. It was not a monster that Wyatt had yet encountered in the game. It wore blue fabric with metal armor over its left forearm, shins, elbows, and chest. Its gloves were also metal. Chain mail wrapped around its neck up to its chin like a scarf. Patches of red flesh showed here and there, especially its neck…its red skin looks rough, as if burned in a fire and only partially healed. A visor hid its eyes (or eye, for all Wyatt knew) and mouth, distorting its voice so it sounds almost robotic. It carried an Atomic Wedge, a particularly nasty boomerang-style weapon. In the game, it could take off an avatar's arm, leg, or head.
The avatar looks around the bar as if seeking someone or something. Guy hurriedly moved to intercept the monster. "You shouldn't be here, Mahtava," Wyatt overhead him whisper. Guy jutted his chin towards the Mesmer to underscore his concern. The crystal avatar had no interest in the red-skinned avatar.
Mahtava inclined its head in response, but also jerked its arm out of Guy's reach. "I have business." Spying what it wanted, Mahtava moved to the Z&Z.
Guy retreated to his barstool beside, not masking his nervousness very well. Wyatt felt his own apprehension heighten. "Dangerous creatures," Guy quietly told Wyatt. "Irrational, unpredictable…uncivilized," he added, nose wrinkling.
The two headed kangaroo-human hybrid tried to curl into a ball to hide from the lumbering Mahtava. Mahtava crossed the room in three strides, and before Z&Z knew it, the atomic wedge was shoved up against the throat of one of its heads.
"You have information for me, Zaglis." Mahtava's voice was low, calm, and deadly, even with the distortion from the visor.
The head called Zaglis was wide-eyed. "You shouldn't be here. I was coming to see you, Mahtava. Don't you trust me?"
Mahtava answered by pressing the wedge harder against his throat. "That depends…remind me again, are you the head that always tells the truth or the head that always lies?"
Zaglis shrugged his shoulder. "The truth, of course."
The other head objected. "He lies!"
"Me? You're the one who lies, Ziglis! You're lying now!"
Ziglis tugged on Zaglis' ear. "You are!"
Mahtava punched Ziglis in his side of their shared jaw. The metal gloves left quite a mark. Ziglis spit out a pointed tooth and complained, "Your kind is so humorless."
"One of you is going to answer my question, and then the other one is going to give me the same answer or else I'll know one of you is lying...then I'll have to guess which of your tongues to cut out," Mahtava ordered.
Both heads squeaked in terror. Zaglis stuck his head into their belly pouch. Mahtava caught him by the back of his neck and pulled his head back out.
Both heads of the Z&Z spoke at once: "The factory is at the-what do the humans call it? Gymnauseasium! Plenty of humans there, hunter!"
Mahtava raised his or her fist again, but did not strike. They had to be speaking the truth…at least one head of the Z&Z must always tell the truth. Slowly, Mahtava lowered the wedge. Letting out a breath it had been holding, Z&Z dug into the pouch and offered up a small parchment with a map, which the red-skinned avatar accepted.
While Mahtava checked the scroll, Z&Z wriggled free and ran from the tavern.
Done with the kangaroo-man, Mahtava turned to stare back at Guy…and then to Wyatt. Though Wyatt could not see the avatar's face, he had the creepy feeling that Mahtava could see right through the hood and see that he was a human.
Unnerved, he tried to casually slide from his barstool and seek a back door from the place. Instead, he collided with Guy, who had finished his drink and was picking up his crates. Guy dropped the boxes and Wyatt was nearly knocked off his feet, while only drew further attention to their corner.
"Oh dear, a thousand apologies, my good-" Guy looked at Wyatt and his eyes widened. "-man?"
Wyatt's hood had fallen away from his face, revealing his very human features for all to see. Each of the monsters stared in shock…for two seconds. Then every kind of weapon was drawn and aimed at the teenager.
The Mesmer's face began to glow red and it emitted it shrill cry of alert.
At once, all present lunged for Wyatt.
Guy grabbed a handful of the boy's jacket and shoved him towards the rear exit of the tavern. "Run, sir."
Not one to generally ignore good advice, Wyatt bolted from the tavern and into the street. Guy steps aside as the throng of patrons converged on the door, led by Mahtava. Besides Guy, only Ilu stayed behind, not the least bit interested in humans or rewards from Maldark.
Wyatt ran outside only to find that the warning alarm had drawn more Mesmers and Tenrec soldiers. A Timiga Warrior led the soldiers in pursuit of the human. He'd always found the Timiga particularly freaky. They reminded him of frill-necked lizards, which of themselves produced some spectacular nightmares for Wyatt. The Timiga were worse because they were essentially seven-foot tall frill-necked reptiles. If that weren't bad enough, they had the ability to break off their own fangs and spit them like deadly darts into their foes…and they always carried their distant cousins, frill-necked slime-slugs, as pets. The slugs sniffed out prey for the Timiga, as the latter completely lacked a sense of smell.
With difficulty, he shook himself out of the phobia-induced panic at the appearance of the Timiga and kept running.
Mesmers were echoing the alarm all across the captured city. Wyatt avoids making eye contact with the hypnotic colors they projected in attempts to subdue him. The cacophony from the Mesmers and the shouts of the mob pursuing the human only attracted more monsters to the chase. The Tenrecs weren't quite close enough yet to use their quills on Wyatt, and he had no intention of letting them get into range. He ran into an alley.
Mahtava raised the Atomic Wedge, stepping between the Timiga leader and his quarry. "The human is mine, Saast!"
There were shouts of disagreement as visions of a huge reward kindled the avatars' greed. Saast raised his arm at the masked avatar, the slug sliding down his arm to bare its fangs at the hunter. "You forget your place! When I catch you at your treasonous acts, your head will be placed on a pike next to the humans!"
"Your Grinders can't catch me…and neither can you," Mahtava mocked him.
The First One of Maldark seethed at the challenge. Were the human not a more important priority, the Timiga would have gifted Mahtava with the punishment befitting insolence and suspected sedition.
Saast followed Wyatt into the alley. Mahtava was only a step behind.
Wyatt was doing his best to lose his pursuers, but the streets and alleyways of Daventry Hills were not the same as he remembered. Some were blocked by piles of burning rubble. Others had monsters living in their ruins, who joined in chasing the human.
Seeing all kinds of avatars, some literally crawling out of the woodwork, Wyatt pushed down a surge of panic. "Oh, come on! Really?!"
He reached the end of the alley to find an electric fence, of all things, blocking his escape. Mahtava was right behind him, Atomic Wedge in hand, shoving Saast out of the way.
"No place to hide, human!" Mahtava purred dangerously.
Wyatt closed his eyes as the avatar threw the wedge at his head.
It missed Wyatt and sliced right through the electric fence to his left. Then, it circled around and sliced the fence to his right on its trajectory back to its wielder. Wyatt opened his eyes to see there was now a hole in the fence just barely large enough for him to squeeze though without being electrocuted.
Wyatt grinned back at the thwarted hunter and the Timugu warrior. "That worked out well…for me, anyway."
Mahtava caught the flying weapon and lumbered after him, Saast and the other monsters close behind.
This time, Saast shoved Mahtava aside: "Move!" He spat a razor-sharp fang in the teenager's direction, but Wyatt was still out of range.
Wyatt has nearly made it back to the park, not far from the high school. Unfortunately, as he turned onto the open, level road, the monster avatars began to gain on him rapidly. Some were closing the distance by hopping like rabbits. Some had wings and started flying.
Belatedly, he remembered the gun tucked beneath the cloak, which now billowed like a cape behind him. Wyatt turned and fired the Rubber/Glue gun at his pursuers. The blob formed a net of adhesive that snagged many of the avatars. Mahtava dove out of the way, but Saast's hulking form could not move quite as fast and was caught in the snare.
Wyatt ducked when the glue stretched to its limits and then slung the netted monsters in his direction, sending them sailing into the park to become entangled in the tree branches. Wyatt had only a second of triumph until the gun dribbled a blob of glue onto Wyatt's shoes. He was suddenly stuck to the pavement.
"Oh, crap…"
It was downhill from there. The mob stopped in their tracks at the sound of a peculiar humming noise approaching from the direction of the high school. The pack was soon cut off from their pursuit by a dozen humanoid figures riding what looked to Wyatt like hoverboards straight of Back to the Future. The avatars each wore long, tattered overcoats of black or brown. Bandanas covered their faces, and their eyes were shaded by a sunglasses with digital night vision enhancements.
There were some kind of implants in their necks that reminded Wyatt of the bolts in Frankenstein's neck. The implants were capped with small, blinking red lights. The avatars carried long, tubular weapons that sparked electricity like Taser guns…
He squinted at the approaching figures. Even in the perpetual darkness created by the purple sky, he could still see there was something different about them. Then it hit him like a slap in the face: they were humans, real humans. Their movements were not graceful, precise, or robotic enough for them to be anything else, besides intuition helped him distinguish between flesh and digital code. But why were they heading at him with their weapons drawn? Were they coming to his rescue or about to attack?
Then one pointed the pipe-like weapon and fired a bolt of energy that missed Wyatt by inches, and the answer became clear. "Aren't we on the same side?" he shouted at them.
He got the impression they were sneering under their masks.
Not waiting for their answer, he quickly untied his shoes and left them behind. He ran for the park and the cover of the forest.
Most of the mob hesitated to follow him into the woods, including Mahtava, but the masked figures on the hoverboards kept coming. The hunter held out an arm, gesturing for the others to hang back. "Leave the human to the Grinders!"
Wyatt couldn't help but look back over his shoulder. Those guys are the Grinders? The ones who killed Angie? His anger burned…but he was outnumbered and armed with a glue gun. In his panic and rage, the still-rational corner of his mind warned him it was not wise to challenge his pursuers.
He couldn't hope to outrun them in the park in the dark. He would trip over an unseen stump or rock and break his leg (or his neck). Wyatt ran in a zig-zag pattern, knowing they'd only close in faster if he ran in a straight line. When he succeeded in putting some distance between himself and the Grinders, he hid behind a fallen tree. The Grinders stopped. Having lost track of their prey, they began to fire blasts blindly into the forest, hoping to scare Wyatt out of hiding.
When one floated too near his hiding place, Wyatt grabbed a large tree branch and swung it, knocking him off his hoverboard. The boy didn't stay down long-on foot, he still headed for Wyatt with the Hail Razor. Blue eyes lit by glee (and possibly insanity) promised payback for the embarrassment. Wyatt hit him with a blob of glue.
Realizing he was stuck, the Grinder shouted to the pack: "Over here! He's here!"
The others circled back. Wyatt raised the gun at them, wondering how many he could snare before the rest of them took him down.
Fog started to roll in.
Wyatt stared at it, dumbfounded. The mist was thick and blue-tinged and gave off a sweet smell that suddenly made him quite sleepy. He blinked to keep his eyes open. This stuff looks like…
"Fog Faeries!" The Grinders' leader shouted a warning. He waved them back. Those who did not already have their cloth masks in place hurriedly pulled them on. It was clear that they'd dealt with this kind of attack before.
Through the mist, a hand reached over Wyatt's shoulder from behind and snatched the weapon out of his hands. He very nearly screamed, until he heard a familiar, welcome voice scold: "Forget the gun! Get your ass out of here, man! Come on!"
Wyatt spun, gaping at the bedraggled figure that had emerged from the cover of the tree line. He was staring into a scarred face he immediately recognized.
"Lyle!"
If Lyle recognized Wyatt, he gave no indication. He grabbed the computer nerd by the shoulder and shoved him roughly into the woods. "I said run!"