by Shade Owens
What was he going to do? Throw grenades over the wall? Player 1 had made it quite clear that BlueVolt had all sorts of high-voltage electrical weapons. There was no doubt in my mind that he could take us all out without even stepping foot inside our Village.
If we didn’t reach him in time, we risked losing everything.
I hurried through the dirt as it turned to mud, careful not to slip.
Why couldn’t I see him? The noise had come from up ahead, yet no one was there. As I turned to look at Rocket to express my confusion, something shiny came swirling through the trees beside us. At first, it looked like a trick of the eye—a light being reflected off of something.
But within a split second, I realized it wasn’t a trick of the eye at all. It was a ball of metal, about the size of a baseball, with a silver casing and cracks filled with bright neon blue light. In haste, I turned my bow and fired an arrow, hoping to stop it midway, but the ball was moving so fast my arrow missed.
It came landing hard against the woman standing next to Rocket, and the moment it made contact, fiery blue light exploded all around her, and her entire body convulsed as if she were having a seizure on her feet. The woman standing next to her stiffened just the same, her terrified eyes aimed straight ahead as her body rocked uncontrollably.
Everyone jumped back as far away as possible as both women shook violently, the sound of electrical current buzzing around us. The air filled with the same scent I’d smelled earlier—burning flesh, and at the same time, both women collapsed to the floor, convulsing with foam at their mouths. The whole thing may have lasted all of ten seconds, though it felt much longer. At last, the shaking stopped and both women lay still, their hollow eyes wide open.
The women standing around them stared at me, looking petrified with fear.
As much as I was worried too, we couldn’t stop now. If we didn’t stop this son of a bitch, he was going to do this to every woman inside the Village.
“Now we know where he is,” I said. “We charge, and we go for the kill. Stay behind trees as much as you can—”
Suddenly, another woman standing several feet away from the two bodies clenched her jaw, tightened her back, and started convulsing. She gripped her knife so hard that her knuckles looked like canine teeth. Within seconds, she was down on the ground.
“Get back!” Rocket shouted, throwing protective arms across several chests. “The current is spreading through the water on the ground!”
Everyone split apart, running far away from the electrical grenade.
“Charge!” I shouted, pointing toward our attacker.
As the rain began to pour, we charged straight ahead, our feet stomping through wet mud and our weapons held high.
CHAPTER 10
It was like looking at something out of a science fiction movie.
He wore a full-body suit that resembled something worn by medical professionals inside a quarantine unit. Unlike medical professionals, however, his suit wasn’t white. Oddly, it matched his surroundings perfectly—gray, white, and black. No wonder it had been impossible to see him; he was perfectly camouflaged.
How had he known to wear those colors? Or, had he brought several different outfits to choose from? Obviously, he was prepared.
His head was covered with a dark, square-shaped hood, and at the front of his face was a plastic screen. What was the purpose of this outfit? Was it to protect him from his own electricity? It had to be.
He reached down into an oversized cargo bag and pulled out several grenades. They rolled in his arms as he struggled to turn them on. The first one lit up, and he threw it as hard as he could. It cracked against the bark of a dead tree and rolled into the leaves on the ground.
As he turned on the next ball, he dropped one.
Was he panicking? Had we taken him by surprise? It almost looked like he hadn’t expected to be confronted by an army of angry women. He’d been the coward in all of this—he’d trapped us inside to kill us without ever having to do any dirty work.
How would that work on his score, anyways? Player 1 had explained that all kills had to be caught on camera.
It didn’t matter, at least not now. All that mattered was that we take this bastard out once and for all.
Another bright silver grenade came spinning through the air.
This time, we weren’t so lucky. Although it didn’t hit anyone, it landed right next to a woman’s foot as she ran, and the combination of her speed and the shock sent her flying through the air.
The woman who’d been running next to her contorted her face, spun her spear in her right hand, and threw it as hard as she could at BlueVolt. He dodged awkwardly, several grenades bouncing out of his arms, and bent down and reached deep inside his bag.
What he pulled out next, however, wasn’t something I had anticipated.
In both hands, he held what looked like a gun, but it was the size of a rocket launcher. He loaded it up onto his shoulder and pressed a button. Suddenly, the tip lit up to create a bright green ring, and a high-pitched sound filled the air around us.
Shit.
I ran sideways, searching for a clear shot through the countless trees, until at last, I found one. As the high-pitched sound became so intense that my ears hurt, I fired an arrow straight for his chest. It made impact—a loud cracking noise—and he stumbled backward, clutching at his heart.
He removed his hand and looked down to see what had hit him, and that’s when I realized the arrowhead hadn’t penetrated.
How come? Was he wearing some sort of protective armor under there? Was there anything this asshole hadn’t thought of?
I fired another shot, this time, aiming for his face.
The arrow hit hard enough for his head to rock back, but it didn’t kill him. The one benefit it provided was to throw him off his game—with arrows being shot at him, he couldn’t fire his massive gun.
Every time he raised his gun, I fired an arrow.
Rocket shot a glance my way, perhaps realizing that all I was doing was distracting him. It was up to them to take him out, and that meant they had to act fast because I didn’t have an unlimited supply of arrows.
Rocket shouted as loud as she could—a war cry that reminded me of our war against the Northers—and ran forward with her hunting spear pointed at BlueVolt. Although the others weren’t as fast, it was obvious they were trying as hard as they could; leg muscles bulged, bellies jiggled, and features became so hard it was as if they were trying to murder him with their looks.
BlueVolt must have realized that with my arrows coming at him, he’d never get to shoot his gun. Evidently, there was a technique to it that required careful attention, and I was making it impossible for him to properly control his weapon. So instead, he dropped it to the ground, reached for two grenades, and lit them up. I fired an arrow at one of his wrists, sending the blue and silver ball flying into the air, but with one ball still in his grip, he threw it straight at Rocket.
My stomach sank, but the next thing I knew, Rocket lunged sideways and kept on running.
The closer they got to him, the more dangerous the situation would become. BlueVolt would simply turn on his grenades and throw them at anyone who dared touch him.
There had to be another way.
As I pulled back on the elastic of my bow, prepared to fire another distractive shot, I realized something: my new arrowheads were made of metal. The idea I had in mind was a huge gamble, but it was worth a shot.
As he lit up another grenade, I aimed for the ball itself and released my arrow, my bow’s elastic snapping against my leather arm guard. It wouldn’t kill him, that much I knew, but killing him wasn’t my intention.
The second the arrowhead made contact with the ball, the whole thing lit up like a Christmas light and started zapping, little blue bolts firing out around the arrow’s shaft. BlueVolt, taken aback by his grenade’s malfunction, stumbled backward and dropped the zapping ball to the ground.
It stopped rolling when
it hit his cargo bag full of inactive grenades. Whipping out another arrow, I aimed it for the bottom of his bag and fired the shot. The metal arrowhead slipped right past the sporadic, damaged grenade, potentially grabbing some of its charge, and tore through the bottom of his bag. A wide tear split horizontally, and one by one, silver balls rolled out.
With another arrow loaded, I waited.
Suddenly, one of the balls made contact with the damaged ball, crackled loudly, and mini bolts of electricity flickered in every direction.
“No!” BlueVolt shouted, running toward his precious weapons.
But he didn’t have the time to stop it. After the second ball went off, it created a domino effect and every other ball inside his bag started exploding. The bag bounced up and down as the balls went off, burning holes through his bag and sending smoke up into the air.
“No, no, no!” he cried out.
I fired my last arrow at the bag and it exploded. BlueVolt threw his hands over his masked face and stepped back.
This was my chance—he was off guard.
Reaching down, I picked up a log the length of my body and charged straight for him. There was no telling how far the electrical current was spreading, so it was important that I not get too close. BlueVolt bent forward, inspecting the ground for what I assumed were undamaged grenades. But before he even had time to reach for one, I threw the log as hard as I could and it crashed right into his chest.
The impact threw him flat on his back, a loud thump on the ground. In a panic, he flailed his arms wildly at his sides as if trying to create a mud angel.
I ran in a circular trajectory, far away from the burning bag, and made my way to him from behind.
“Brone!” Rocket shouted.
She, along with every other woman, had stopped running and were slowly stepping backward. With how wet everything was, walking anywhere near BlueVolt and his bag of high-voltage grenades was a huge risk.
What if I stepped on the wrong spot? One wrong move and I’d be gone forever.
“You’re too close!” Rocket said.
Quickly, BlueVolt flopped over onto his stomach and by sticking his butt into the air, managed to get back up onto his feet. His head snapped sideways, his fogged plastic face screen aimed at the gun he’d tried to fire earlier.
Shit.
If I stepped any closer, there was a good chance I’d die. But if I didn’t, there was a good chance he’d fry all of us. Something on the sleeve of his wrist caught my attention—a small hole. Had my arrow done this? I’d shot at his wrist to make him drop the grenade. If his suit had torn, it meant his sleeves and pant legs didn’t have the same impenetrable protection as his chest, back, and head.
I shot Rocket a look but didn’t have to say anything for her to know what I was thinking. At once, she threw me her spear and I caught it by the shaft. Right when BlueVolt picked up his gun, I launched the spear as hard as I could into his left thigh.
Although an excellent archer, I wasn’t as adept at throwing spears. It didn’t stab him the way I’d hoped, but the throw had been aimed well enough to tear another hole in his suit. He swung around, his gun aimed at me, and pressed a button.
It charged up within a matter of seconds, and he placed his finger over the trigger. Although I couldn’t see his face behind the scratched, foggy screen, I had a feeling he was smiling at me.
Before he had the time to press the trigger, though, another spear came twirling through the air, catching him in the calf. And then, several arrows followed, one of them catching his arm, and the other, his left thigh.
In an instant, he cried out and dropped his gun, but it was obvious he was doing everything he could to stay upright.
In one swift motion, I reached down and grabbed the closest and longest branch I could find, held it firmly in both hands, and swung it like a baseball bat.
The other end hit him square in the throat and he stumbled backward. As he did so, the heel of his heavy boot landed on one of his grenades and he slipped as if having caught a patch of black ice. His entire body went up into the air, his limbs flapping in a desperate attempt to save himself.
But it was no use.
He came down hard, right into a shallow puddle of muddy water, and his suited body shook violently as sparks of blue light zapped all around him.
CHAPTER 11
The walk back was nearly as difficult as the search for BlueVolt—not because of pain or fear, but rather, heartache. Several women cried for their lost friends, while others held onto each other, their eyes red and glossy.
“Any of you wishing to return home can do so,” I said, throwing my chin out at the Village’s wooden walls. “Be careful going under the fence—”
“No,” Rocket cut me off. “We’ll all come with you in case.” She turned around to look at the remaining survivors, who wiped their eyes and nodded.
“It shouldn’t be too far,” I said, following the same rubberized wire we’d tracked earlier.
Without the fear of BlueVolt attacking us from behind, the search didn’t take long at all.
“Right there,” Rocket said, pointing ahead.
Attached around the base of a tree was a black box with a metal door. BlueVolt had taken the time to push dirt up against its sides to make it more difficult to spot.
We approached it cautiously, inspecting the space around it. There didn’t appear to be any traps. BlueVolt had been guarding it himself from a distance. It was obvious he had anticipated an intervention, but he hadn’t expected our number to be so great.
I walked up to it and crouched down. On the front door was a small rubber handle that seemed responsible for opening and closing the door. So I pulled on it, and sure enough, the panel opened up to reveal a red switch on the inside.
Could it be so simple? Was it only a switch that turned the power on or off? It must have been one hell of an advanced piece of equipment to hold so much power in such a little box. As I thought about this, another wire caught my eye. I followed it up the tree, where odd-looking panels stuck out of the tree’s trunk.
What were those things? Some sort of advanced solar panels?
“Think it’s a trap?” Rocket asked.
I turned my head to look at her. “Not sure. It could be.”
A woman standing next to Rocket—Carolina—leaned forward with a scowl on her face. “That thing’s what’s powering the fence?”
Carolina was one of our cleaners and often went around the Village picking up pieces of bone, fruit seeds, and even cleaning out dirty dishes left by a few lazy women. She had short curly hair, cheeks as red as blood, and an open mouth as she breathed in and out faster than anyone else. I couldn’t tell whether she was exhausted, angry, or frightened.
“Yeah,” Rocket said, pulling away from what I could only assume was the woman’s raunchy breath.
Carolina tightened her grip around the wooden club in her hands and flared her nostrils so hard they went as red as her face. She raised her weapon above her head and growled.
“Whoa!” I said, stepping in front of her.
I must have taken her by surprise. She awkwardly lowered her club, then tilted sideways to look at the box again.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked.
“Doing what needs to be done,” she said. “I’ma break that piece of shit.” She breathed in loudly, no doubt fighting back tears. “That fence… That fucking fence killed—”
“Easy,” I said. Turning my attention to Brook, a tall woman with a gun tattoo on her neck, I said, “Can you please bring her back inside the Village to cool off? Smashing the box probably isn’t safe. If she hits that thing, it could kill us all.”
The truth was, I had no idea how the box was going to react. Not only did I know nothing about electricity other than that it was both useful and dangerous, but I also knew nothing about military-grade technology.
Brook nodded, wrapped a comforting arm around Carolina’s shoulder, and walked her away from the crowd. I r
eached for the nearest spear I could find—a finely-carved wooden shaft with a dark stone blade—and spun it around in my hands. Although I’d heard that most rocks didn’t act as conductors, I’d once been told that others, depending on the type, had higher electrical conductivity.
Not wanting to take the risk of blowing anything up, I used the wooden end of the shaft and aimed it at the red lever. Although this would have been far easier had I been using my hand, the last thing I wanted was to be electrocuted to death after falling victim to some well-designed trap.
Wincing, I aimed the end of the spear under the lever and pulled. It slipped a few times, both because it was difficult to latch onto something using a dull end, but also because the switch had a weird shape. The rain was also still pouring down, making me blink hard every few seconds.
Finally, something caught, and I pulled the lever down. It clicked as it switched into the off position, and a loud humming filled the air before disappearing entirely. I turned to Rocket, who appeared as confused as I was, and stared out toward the fence.
Had it worked?
“Who has a sword?” I asked.
One woman stepped forward, handing me an old Norther sword.
I gripped it by its handle and marched toward the electrical fence. Had we truly done it? Could we now cross over safely to the Village?
“What’re you gonna do?” Rocket asked, jogging to catch up with me. “This isn’t like earlier, Brone. It’s raining. The whole thing’s wet. You can’t go touching the tip of it on one of those wires. What if it’s still active?”
“Relax,” I said, staring straight ahead.
Everyone else followed me up to the fence, excited whispers firing back and forth.
“Stay back,” I ordered, extending an arm out at my side.
Everyone took several steps back, and I aimed the sword’s blade at the middle wire. One touch was all it took—if there was still electricity coursing through the wire, the sword would either be thrown off or would create a blinding spark.
