Nashville wouldn't say the situation had improved, but it seemed to have stabilized. The Rangers had caught the Abyssal's trail within minutes of their landing, and were making astonishing progress across the perilous terrain of Olympic National park. The deployment of the 7th Infantry had gone without a hitch, and now a wall of camera traps, drones, and grunts separated the Olympic Peninsula from the rest of Washington.
Panic didn't seem like it was going to be an issue. Operation Absolute Railway was announced to the public in an unassuming press release, and it seemed few news outlets thought a readiness exercise in the middle of a world war was worth their time.
Of course, all of that would fall apart if Abyssal Aircraft flew out of the forest and leveled a small town within their search area. Time was of the essence, which is what made the Light Cruiser's next task so important.
When Lieutenant Murray and Nashville arrived at the interrogation room, they found it already prepared for them. As the ONI officer got set up on the other side of the two-way mirror, Nashville entered the room proper.
Perhaps as some kind of joke, someone had scattered toy furniture across the fold-out table in the center, a saccharine version of the room's arrangement in miniature. As the ONI officer got set up on the other side of the two-way mirror, Nashville entered the room proper. Ignoring the chairs on either side of the table, the Light Cruiser brought her hand to surface and and allowed the four fairies on her palm to hop off.
The two marines landed first, the bayonets at the end of their miniature springfields twinkling as they walked towards the doll table at the center. Between them, the Abyssal fairy waddled, her beady eyes darting around the unfamiliar room.
The Abyssal Fairies were… strange creatures, even to Nashville and her crew. Staring at the Marines, or any of other fairies, she got the impression of something… suppressed. No, perhaps 'projected' would be a more accurate term for it. Behind each Fairy, some larger presence lingered, perhaps not truly aware it was lending its technical skills as it slumbered.
There was nothing behind the abyssal. Her fairies were like a distant mirror, reflecting the flickering light of a fire she couldn't see. The Wo's fairy was like an ember, burning on its own. It was disturbing, but Nashville wasn't sure how to read into it. Murray probably didn't see anything beyond glowing eyes and pale skin, so she'd have to get a second opinion from another shipgirl.
Behind the trio, Nashville's Intelligence Officer dusted herself off, straightening her uniform before turning to face the Light Cruiser.
"Hey."
Compared to other returned ships in the US Navy, Nashville didn't have much she could say she specialized in. Her service record, both in the last and current war, wasn't particularly unique. Her technical specifications were nothing special, especially as she was stuck with what she launched with. Her spanish skills were excellent, but in the US Navy Spanish-speaking shipgirls were a dime a dozen. However, she'd spent the majority of her life in the US Navy as a flagship, and it showed in her command staff. If any fairy in the US Navy could get information out of the Abyssal, her intelligence officer could.
"Go get 'er." Nashville whispered, flashing the fairy a salute. The two turned away from each other, Nashville taking her leave while the officer strutted towards the prisoner.
Murray was waiting for her when Nashville entered the observation room, one of those portable computers unfolded in front of him.
"Coffee?" He asked, motioning to a pair of styrofoam cups. Nashville wordlessly grabbed one, setting it aside a notebook Murray had placed in front of an open chair.
"Anyone done this before?"
Murray shook his head, eyes focused on the interrogation. The intelligence fairy had taken a leisurely path to the table, ensuring the Marines had plenty of time to get the captured pilot situated in her plastic lounge chair. The officer ignored her own, leaning over the tiny table between the two.
"Hey."
Huh. Nashville wouldn't have thought opening like that would have been a good idea, but she wasn't the professional. Maybe Murray could explain more to her later.
"Hey, Hey Hey." The intelligence fairy continued, taking his seat in the remaining toy chair. One second of silence. Two.
"Hey." The abyssal finally spoke, her puny arms crossed as she stared back at The Officer. "Hey Hey. Hey Hey Hey."
Okay, so name, rank, and serial number weren't particularly helpful, although it did raise plenty of questions. Was the fairy a Lieutenant when she came into existence?
What kind of name was 'Pilot?'
Did the abyssals have some sort of file with personnel numbers, or was this another example of the creatures imitating human methods without understanding them?
At least they spoke English.
Nashville meant to ask Murray about it, but when she turned from the interview she found her thoughts suddenly derailed.
One of ONI's best abyssal experts was cradling his head in his hands, slouched forwards on the table.
Was he sick? They'd both been pushing themselves pretty hard since they first encountered the Abyssal. Was the stress getting to him?
"You okay?"
An exasperated sigh escaped the man's lips.
"I don't know what I expected."
"What do you mean?"
Murray stood, slapped his laptop shut, and took a hearty chug from his own cup of coffee.
"Take plenty of notes, okay?" He said, tapping Nashville's notebook. "I'm going to do something more useful."
"More useful? What could be more useful than-"
The realization hit her mid-sentence, and the Light cruiser's question devolved into a giggle. Fairy speech made perfect sense to her, but to regular humans? If the Lieutenant had thought he could understand the interrogation, he must not have been getting enough sleep.
The Spook rolled his eyes, turning and opening the door to the hallway.
"Sir?" Nashville added, her mirth fading almost as quickly as it had arrived. The Lieutenant stopped, once again staring at the Light Cruiser. "Get some shut-eye, alright?"
"Yeah." Murray replied, nodding and entering the hallway.
Now alone, the Light Cruiser once again turned her attention back to the interrogation. Good to know she wasn't the only one beating herself up about the Abyssal.
She wasn't listening to the radio anymore.
The first speaker spent over an hour ranting about various things, especially someone called "The President" and his policy in Hawaii. According to the speaker, his refusal to admit the Islands were a lost cause was costing the US vital men and war material, and that cost dwarfed the actual value of the islands.
Which was wrong.
Maybe it was because she'd spent so long guarding convoys, but Trinitite liked to think she had a mind for logistics. She never paid much attention to the topic, but she remembered the buzz around the Abyssals when the Hawaiian campaign had started. The steady supply of war material from the Americas to Australia was one of the greatest reasons the island hadn't fallen along with the rest of southeast asia, and the determination the humans had shown in holding Hawaii and the Pitcarns showed they knew that too.
The line kept the Abyssals of the Pacific from meeting with their allies in the Antarctic and Atlantic, correspondence limited to messages delivered via submarine or over the Indian ocean. Cutting it would change the face of the entire war, and Hawaii was step one in doing so. Her princess had said it often, and Trinitite had no reason to doubt it: if the humans were going to unleash The Fire on the Abyssals, it would be at Hawaii.
The talker stated he was out of time, ending his show, and Trintite was about to start scanning more channels when a completely different person took over.
"This is your total information source: The Clay Buchanan show!"
'Total information source?' That sounded promising.
It wasn't.
The new man on the radio reminded Trinitite much of the last speaker, although his intentions couldn't be more different. While the previous man spent minutes ranting about this president figure, this man spent minutes ranting about people who ranted about the president.
It made her head spin a little, but felt oddly familiar. She was often reminded of various princesses she'd see in her time escorting convoys, when one would pin her down as a target for venting. The mental image of the broadcaster and the Southern War Princess shouting at each other over a radio entertained the Wo-class as the host went on a tangent she couldn't follow, but a statement from the speaker brought her back to reality.
"These things are demons. None of them will stop until there isn't anything left to kill!"
That was wrong, too. Her Princess had certainly 'stopped.'
In another few hours, the speaker stepped down for another show. In his stead, a much calmer person took over the airwaves, speaking on his own and with people who joined him about something called… money? Apparently it was very important, and you wanted a lot of it so you could eliminate your… 'Debt,' which was apparently as evil they thought she was. Trinitite found herself drifting often during the broadcast, focusing on the wildlife around her instead. They were dedicating hours to the topic, so it must have been pretty important, but without any base understanding she couldn't really get a grasp of any of it.
Night began to fall, and a fourth show took over the transmission. This one seemed understandable enough, with a woman giving health advice. It wasn't particularly applicable to the abyssal, so Trinitite muted her radio and allowed her thoughts to wonder. She'd crossed two fairly serious rivers since she'd started listening, skirting around a few lakes and sticking to trees when the occasional aircraft flew over. Not all seemed military, but she recognized the silhouette of more than one flying cross. Odd, rumor had it the Humans had gotten rid of those. The Aircraft Carrier mentally added the tough birds to the overwhelming list of threats she'd been building.
She reactivated the radio after a few hours, to find the show changed again. The talk was centered more around the odd politics of the land she'd infiltrated. In other circumstances, she might have found it interesting, but by this point she'd stopped caring. Talk of Presidential Candidates, Senators, Governors and Congressmen filled the airwaves, and the Abyssal's apathy grew. Maybe she'd recognize a term in the future, and all of this would suddenly fit together, but for now she was getting frustrated. At least it was too dark for the enemy aircraft to effectively spot her.
That program ended as well, and if Trinitite had correctly calculated her location she guessed a new day passed. The radio changed again, and another person started speaking. She readied herself for more political talk that would go beyond her, but no amount of preparation would have adequately prepared her for the… oddities her antenna was picking up.
Aliens? Ghosts? Government conspiracies? The Aircraft Carrier found herself oddly enthralled, but there was so much unfamiliar vocabulary the Abyssal once again found her thoughts drifting. Her attention was abruptly grabbed, however, a particularly jarring call from a guest assaulted her.
"So you're saying that the UN created the Abyssals?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
What.
"We've never been so close to a global army as we've seen now. They've unleashed these demons in the ocean to get you used to the satanic powers that created both the Abyssals and our so-called saviors. Think about it! The most powerful rituals require human sacrifice. What better way than letting the demons do the killing themselves?"
The Abyssal tripped over a stone in the darkness, the caller's response completely derailing her attempts to navigate in the dark. She expected the host to laugh the caller off the air or berate them like she'd seen in the earlier political shows, but his response only frustrated the Abyssal further.
"That's very disconcerting. What kind of ritual would need that-"
Trinitite shut her radio off, fuming. Why would anyone believe that? Trinitite recollected her own first memories. The slow onset of senses. The a sudden pang of panic as she realized she couldn't breathe, before breaking the surface of the water. Her first, shuddering breaths. The confusion that ran rampant through her mind and crew.
Bearing 174. Report.
Something had placed that command in Trinitite's mind, but she was certain it was no human. Human submarines could be frightfully difficult to find, but even they weren't good enough to regularly scatter Abyssals from the Bering Strait to the Southern ocean without constantly getting noticed by roving patrols. Even then, the infrastructure and logistics required been obvious even to the Pacific Fleets, doubly so from land.
A desire to set things straight burned in her for hours, the Abyssal wondering how to 'call' a radio show long after it probably ended.
In hindsight, her ignorance might have prevented her from doing something profoundly stupid. The host always said a caller was from one place or another, and giving her position away because somebody dirtied the airwaves with stupid ideas didn't seem like a good idea. Why did she care what the humans thought about her, anyways?
She didn't, right?
No, that wasn't it. She'd spent a day trying to collect information on this wavelength, and now she just learned she couldn't trust any of it. She'd had her suspicions throughout the day, but after that insanity she felt she couldn't trust the parts she had understood. It just wasn't good information, and if even a small portion of the information she'd been taking as viable intel was as inaccurate as what she'd discovered, it might be better to know nothing at all. Perhaps searching some of the other transmissions the humans cluttered their territory with would give more useful information, but even dead silence appealed to Trinitite more than that.
So, as the sun rose again, The Abyssal hiked with her radio off. She'd have to recon the old-fashioned way.
When she wasn't reviewing repair reports or watching her footing, there was still plenty of wildlife to enjoy. She crossed a dirt path, too narrow for any vehicle to use, and then another. The mountainous terrain hadn't seemed to change, but humans seemed to be determined to cover this part in paths of unknown destination. More than once, Trinitite was forced to dive into whatever foliage she could find, staying as still as possible as the occasional wondering humans followed the trail. She found herself cursing as her progress slowed, but ultimately she only lost a few hours.
The mountains came to an end, the twigs and strange leaves that constantly pricked at the Abyssal's feet obscured a layer of dry grass. Thanks to the more even ground, Trinitite found herself able to move at a light jog, the occasional fall a small price to pay for the increased speed.
This offset a new challenge presented by the forest, which abruptly switched between mature trees that towered over her and groves of saplings that were shorter than she was. Trinitite had to take constant detours to avoid sectors of the woods that were either too bare for her to risk crossing or too thick with young growth.
This time, night didn't truly fall.
The clouds above the trees glowed, some great light reflecting off them and illuminating the forest around Trinitite. As helpful as it was, the odd glow set the Abyssal further on edge, her imagination conjuring increasingly fantastic ideas as to its origin. Still, she approached. It proved to be a good decision, as cresting a hill put any of her fears to rest.
A town, nestled between a budding airport and a narrow bay, shown through the trees, buildings and roads radiating unnatural yellow-white light. She'd seen plenty of human towns in her life, but war and years of abandonment had left them as dry, dull looking husks. If a settlement this small was so radiant, how bright would the steel spires at Manilla have been? Macau? Singapore?
No matter. The quartermaster's reports were getting increasingly desperate, and every hour the pang in her stomach seemed to get deeper. Trinitite couldn't make a guess as to the town's population, but such a large group of humans would need a lot of food. After days in the wild, Trinitite was certain the environment couldn't provide it. That meant there would have to be some kind of logistics infrastructure that brought food in from the seaport, roads, and airport, and distributed it to the locals. If she could find just one unguarded part of that network, her supply problems were solved.
Her senses narrowed as she dismissed her rigging. It was time for some reconnaissance, which meant getting close to humans again. Hopefully, in the discolored light the humans created, anyone who sighted her would dismiss her as one of their own.
She would give the air and sea ports a wide berth. If the military was in this town, they would be there. Unfortunately, that meant weaving between the airport and another large compound, so bright it's own light equaled that of the rest of the town. A military base, perhaps?
Rounding the airport and cutting east, she emerged from the forest for perhaps the first time in days. In front of her lay a massive road, bustling with vehicles even at the late hour. Crossing it may be an issue, but beyond that…
"What's a Walmart?"
Two massive structures, larger than any warehouse she'd seen, dominated the other side of the road. The northern one shone with light, the odd word plastered across its front large enough that she could read it even at this distance. In a stretch of asphalt ahead of it, human vehicles clustered, parked in neat rows. She would have thought it a vehicle Depot if they weren't placed to irregularly.
The southern building was angled such that Trinitite couldn't determine if it, too, had letters in front of it. However, the asphalt lot in front of it was nearly empty, with the few cars that remained withdrawing at a fairly regular pace.
Trinitite wasn't sure of much these days, but if those weren't some kind of warehouse, she wasn't sure what would be.
It was time to resupply.
Every day, Elizabeth Clarke would wake up at 10:30 AM, to an empty house. Steven had already left for his own job. The kids were out, having long since caught their bus to Middle School. She would prepare her own breakfast, something simple, and get to whatever chores she'd set out for herself. Having inevitably failed to get everything she wanted done, Elizabeth would cook herself a little lunch, pack a dinner, and head for work.
She would tell herself her late-night job was helping her kids. Taking the late shift as the Store Manager opened up many other opportunities in Fred Meyers, carving out a shorter path to retirement and a better career in the future. Building a College fund for her kids would help them build a future for themselves, without having to get involved in the war.
Still, at times like these…
Elizabeth checked her watch and sighed, rubbing her forehead. 11:38. Besides her, the last employee had left 10 minutes ago. Adding the time it would take for her to get home, and it seemed like she was going to be crawling into bed after midnight. Again.
As Elizabeth made a final walk of the store, ensuring the lock on every entrance was engaged, she brought out her phone. Steven would be asleep by now, but keeping him informed was part of their ritual.
Store's locked up
See you soon 3
The employee parking area was desolate, streetlights illuminating empty pavement and the last car parked against the building: Her solitary grey sedan. The woman's hand strayed to her purse as she walked to her vehicle, grasping the canister of pepper spray she'd always kept there. The Walmart across Wallace Kneeland Boulevard was bustling with activity, and several restaurants on the block were still open, but all were still too far away to notice if she was in trouble. In her year working this shift, nothing bad had happened, but with her being this tired her imagination liked to run away from her.
Her half-lidded eyes drifted to her car as she approached. The old Camry needed an oil change, a tire rotation, and a trip through a car wash, but Elizabeth hadn't found the time to give it a proper service. Elizabeth swung the driver's side door open, attempted to rub the tiredness out of her eyes, and threw her purse inside. She really shouldn't be driving like this, but she couldn't think of any good alternatives. She'd pull over for a quick nap if her Audiobook wasn't keeping her awake.
Elizabeth climbed in, keys twirling in her fingers as she slammed the door behind her. At least, she tried to.
When the familiar thunk of a closing door didn't occur, the tired Manager yanked it again. And again. Odd, there shouldn't be anything blocking it…
Elizabeth turned back to her door in frustration, and froze.
Two glowing eyes, one orange, one blue, peered back into the car. Between her own drowsiness and the glow from the streetlamps, she hadn't noticed their reflection in her window, but now she was staring into them, their light seemed to fill her car's cockpit.
The pale, smooth face was framed from above and on either side by long, unkempt hair, as colorless as the monster's skin. Her neck was protected by a massive neck guard, composed of flat teeth the size of Elizabeth's palm. A hand gripped the Camry's door like a particularly stiff sheet of paper, effortlessly counteracting Elizabeth's efforts to close it.
An Abyssal. In Shelton.
A pair of cold lips parted, and the waking nightmare finally spoke.
"I need food."
So, normally I'd explain the delay by complaining about writer's block or something, and while some of the chapter was pretty hard to write, I can't blame it on that. Going through Finals tends to curb your available writing time.
After I finished writing this chapter, I was intending to break it up and publishing it in slightly more manageable bits, but I couldn't find a good way to split it without rendering one of the chapters too short for my liking. Hope you don't mind the length.
On other matters, that's the end of the 'wilderness arc'! I feel like I could have written it to be much longer, but decided to shorten it because you're not here for a survival story, and I wanted to get to some real shenanigans.
I was debating on weather to use real or fake corporations for a while, and while seeing Trinitite as an employee of the multinational conglomerate McBurger Kong would be amazing, I eventually decided I could get more comedy using real names for corporations and the like. I'm not sure it's a good use of the reference, anyways.
Uh... for you not in the US or a part of the US where Fred Meyers operates, think of it as a less extra Walmart: Similar verity, smaller stores overall, safer Black Fridays, etc.
I tried to represent Talk Radio fairly, but at the end of the day we're hearing about it from an overwhelmed Abyssal's point of view, so only the weirdest stuff sticks out.