Anxiety was clear in Cloudhawk’s voice. “You go first!”
The road to freedom was like a dark mist. Burning motes of red appeared, interspersed within it and closing in.
Cloudhawk swung his staff at one, striking it and sending whatever the creature was smashing into a wall. He saw it clearly then, a winged thing about half a meter long with sharp talons and scarlet eyes.
Mutant bats!
When the tide of mutant beasts attacked the Blackflag Outpost, he’d seen what a swarm of these monsters could do. He didn’t expect to encounter them here, beneath the Greenland Outpost.
That horrid night was still fresh in his mind, when the wastelands fiends came looking for blood. These creatures were smaller but there were dozens of them. More than Cloudhawk could handle on his own.
He heard the Queen’s rasping voice in front of him. “I see an exit!”
Two hundred meters away, a shaft of moonlight pierced the darkness. Cloudhawk felt a surge of vitality. Hydra had told them the truth after all.
“Go ahead, I’ll hold them off!”
He gripped the exorcist rod tightly in his right hand, waving it to fend off bats that got too close. He held the handgun in his left hand and, firing randomly into the darkness, managed to hit several of the bats. They kept coming, but the smell of blood whipped the other bats into a frenzy. In the blink of an eye, the mutants fell upon their own and tore them to shreds like a pack of starving devils.
They were unthinkably ferocious and bloodthirsty! It was appalling to behold.
It didn’t take long for Cloudhawk to run out of bullets, and though he managed to kill a few, more bats kept coming. Their numbers continued to swell. Several got past him and headed right for the Queen, for she was bleeding and the scent fomented their ravenous hunger.
She sent the phoenix of fire at one and set it alight, but four or five more closed in.
Cloudhawk called the power of his cloak and suddenly, air and gravity no longer restrained him. He leapt forward at full speed like a blast of wind, lashing out with his staff upon reaching the Queen and knocking away two more bats. He didn’t stop to deal with the rest and instead dragged her towards the exit.
Finally, they’d escaped!
It was night and the bats poured out of the cavern like a lethal cloud, circling overhead ominously. Their sudden and violent appearance startled Greenland personnel and several shots could be heard as they fired into the flock.
Meanwhile, Cloudhawk continued to draw on the cloak’s power, making them faster. He frantically searched for somewhere safe to hide.
“I found them!”
An errant sweeper team combing the area had picked them out. There were more than ten of them armed with axes and crossbows. Like a swarm of bees, they descended on the two demon hunters.
Cloudhawk glowered at them and the situation they faced. “Mother fucker! These twisted pieces of shit are everywhere!”
Experienced killers with close and long ranged weapons encircled them, leaving Cloudhawk with no way to escape or fight back. Their only option was to find cover.
The sweepers were dark shapes in the moonlight, deadly shadows that surrounded their prey and started closing in.
However, they were so fixated on their targets that they missed the unassuming figure behind them. Like the specter of death, it soundlessly approached, the glint of a dagger in hand.
Without so much as a whisper, the silhouette buried its dagger in a sweeper’s spine. The hunter crumpled to the ground, having lost all ability to move. Before he could scream, a calloused hand clamped his mouth shut and cold steel opened his throat.
Ruthless, swift, and efficient. The figure carefully slid the corpse onto the ground.
A second and then a third were silenced by the dagger-wielding shadow – all killed without a sound. Whoever the murderous shadow was, they appeared and vanished through the night, each corpse left behind slain by a different method.
Eventually, the sweepers knew something was wrong when they heard fewer footsteps. The ones in front looked behind and saw five of their brethren dead, throats cut and bubbling blood.
They stared in horrified shock. There were only corpses and no killers. Who was the culprit? Five of their companions were killed without warning and in a matter of seconds!
One of the sweepers stumbled back a few steps. “Look out!”
The sting of a dagger severed his spine and no more words were spoken.
“Over here!”
Sweepers spotted the assassin and almost instinctively fired their weapons. The killer used the body of their dead comrade as a meat shield to absorb the bullets and arrows, leaving this mysterious shadow unscathed. A pair of daggers whistled through the night.
“Ahh!”
“Ugh!”
Two shouts. Two more sweepers collapsed.
What was left of the sweeper team raced forward, equal parts surprised, afraid, and enraged. But by the time they reached the corpse the assassin had used for cover, the shadow was already gone.
Sssshhhht!
Another fell clutching an open throat. And then another, a dagger in its neck.
Fear descended on the sweepers, filling them with terror. Their assailant was death incarnate come to take them in the night. Scared witless, they ran to look for help.
Cloudhawk was hiding behind a boulder. He saw the whole scene unfold.
A silhouette, not large or particularly imposing, emerged from the darkness to stand before him. He was Asian, dressed in ragged clothing and pale of face. His expression was a mask of indifference, though the scent of death hung over him like a cloud. Moonlight glinted off his dagger.
Cloudhawk looked back, eyes wide with shock. “Mantis, is that you? What are you doing here?!”
64 Rebuilding the Team
There were few in the Wastelands who could kill this way – ruthlessly efficient and completely silent. Mantis was one such figure. Only, Mantis had disappeared after they escaped from Blackflag Outpost. He’d spent days evading sweeper hunts while weathering deadly sandstorms. How could he now show up here?
Mantis had tailed the sweepers and even managed to infiltrate their airship. It brought him to Greenland Outpost.
This revelation confounded Cloudhawk. Mantis followed the sweepers and snuck onto their ship without being detected at all? The size of the brass balls on this guy was unthinkable. How stealthy was he? Cloudhawk didn’t dare think about what else he was capable of.
“Come with me.”
Sweepers were everywhere and oasis guards numbered in the hundreds as they combed the area. Hydra had let Cloudhawk and the Queen go, but his subordinates didn’t know that. If they were caught, the consequences would be bad.
Luckily, Mantis was a master assassin. Assassins weren’t just adept at killing; they had to be experts of stealth as well, and the night was Mantis’s playground. As they crept through the darkness, Mantis picked off the weaker hunters, ending their lives and leaving no trace. One by one, he ambushed their pursuers and ushered their spirits to the afterlife.
The small crew escaped through the opening created.
Greenland Outpost was large and boasted over fifty thousand souls. Finding three people in that press of humanity was like trying to find a needle in an ocean. Mantis led them to a basement below one of the common residences in the outpost, without the owner suspecting a thing. Cloudhawk helped the Queen to a corner and settled her against the wall. She wasn’t doing well. Her condition was less than optimistic.
Cloudhawk turned to Mantis. “Help take a look at her.”
Mantis obliged, stretching out his hand but the Queen glared back at him. Her right hand shot out with lethal intent and pale fire undulated around the Burning Angels.
Cloudhawk hurriedly moved to put her at ease. “Hold on. Mantis is a doctor. He can check your injuries!”
Mantis paid her no mind. He grabbed her wrist and after a moment, spoke in his typical detached tone. “She has less th
an a day.”
Cloudhawk gaped at him. “Mantis, c’mon stop screwin’ around. You just touched her wrist. How do you even know where she’s hurt?”
Mantis had diagnosed the condition of her internal organs by feeling her pulse [1]. His knowledge came from an ancient and exquisite tradition, far superior to anything found in the ruins these days. How could a yokel like Cloudhawk possibly understand? The Bloodsoaked Queen had more than a few external wounds, but they were not of much concern and would heal on their own in a few days.
Her internal injuries were far more serious. After days of running and fighting, the strain of the demands she’d put on herself had caused her condition to deteriorate. It was a miracle that she still lived. If she were anyone else, even someone like Grizzly, she’d have been dead already.
Despite his impatience, Cloudhawk knew Mantis wasn’t one to screw around. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Aren’t you a doctor?! Think of something!”
“I am a doctor,” Mantis affirmed patiently, “I am not a god.”
Without tools or medicine, there was nothing he could do. Was he supposed to use magic?
Cloudhawk fidgeted restlessly, wracking his brain. “Can’t we do anything?”
“Enough, begging won’t do anything.” The Queen’s time was short, but she was calm – the demon hunter did not fear death. She closed her eyes as she spoke. “You have the potential to become a demon hunter. You aren’t like this wastelander.”
Mantis pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. “Everyone has his own path. Hunting demons doesn’t suit him.”
The Bloodsoaked Queen opened her eyes again and looked at Mantis with a glint of curiosity and surprise in her eyes. “Who are you?”
He didn’t answer.
Cloudhawk had always been interested in Mantis’ story. He had been a part of the Tartarus mercenaries, and yet was different. He was a mercenary leader like Mad Dog and Slyfox, but no one dared give him orders. There’d been some sort of unspoken understanding he wasn’t aware of.
Mantis also never directly participated in missions. He always remained behind and did logistics work.
Cloudhawk was a hundred percent sure Mantis had always known the Queen’s identity. This fact alone meant Mantis wasn’t your typical wastelander.
Yet Cloudhawk didn’t care about any of that. The Queen’s critical condition was most important. Despite her shitty temperament, she was the strongest fighter Cloudhawk knew. At peak condition, she outmatched the demon’s three lieutenants combined. What was he going to do if she died? Those fucking freaks would hunt him to the ends of the earth!
Mantis asked, “How did you escape the dungeons?”
He answered honestly. “We ran into someone named Hydra. He helped us escape.”
“Hydra?”
“You know him?”
Mantis didn’t answer. He turned and made to leave.
Cloudhawk shot to his feet. “Where are you going?”
Mantis didn’t stop. His soft voice hung in the air as he vanished out into the streets. “Stay here.”
By now, the hundreds of sweepers and outpost guards had put down the dungeon rebellion. Yet even with all of these soldiers, no matter how rigorously they searched, the two escapees had vanished like smoke in the breeze.
The demon’s servants were understandably furious.
Were these two able to hide in the sky? Disappear into the ground? They slipped through their clutches every time!
Greenland Outpost was sealed off and the surround forests were deadly, to put it mildly. Beyond that, the wastelands stretched far into the horizon. Escape would not be easy for this pair of troublemakers. Their slipping out of the dungeon didn’t mean they’d fled the outpost.
The three mutants ordered the gates closed and simultaneously dispatched scores of guards to canvas the area. Every house was searched. Every ruin was picked through. Every stone was overturned as they hunted for leads.
With every passing minute, the search team got closer to where they hid.
Cloudhawk felt anxiety welling up within him. It was only a matter of time before they came to this basement. How were they going to escape?
Suddenly, the door to the basement was pulled open. An outpost guard pushed his way in, armed with a rifle.
Cloudhawk sprang to his feet like a leopard and threw up his fists, ready for a fight.
“It’s me.”
“Mantis? What are you doing dressed like that?”
“Shut up and change. We have to go.”
Mantis had brought two more disguises for them, also outpost guard attire. They included two sets of worn-out armor, veils and rifles. Once they changed clothes, they would be practically indistinguishable from real personnel.
Mantis led the other two out of the basement. They swaggered through the outpost, trying to blend in with the sweepers and guards that were searching for them. Hundreds of sweepers went from house to house searching for them while they pushed past, headed in the other direction.
Cloudhawk felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest.
Mantis, in contrast, walked around as though he’d done this a hundred times. Be it posture or attitude, he was the spitting image of any outpost guard. The three demon lieutenants were leading their teams from the inside of the city out to its far reaches, for they didn’t think their targets would be heading deeper into the outpost.
What the fugitives saw when they entered the Greenland Fort was nothing short of stunning.
It looked like the outpost was preparing for war. Everyone was affected. However, the people were used to the turmoil and seemed numb to it. The first floor of the fort was a market where they sold alcohol, tobacco, various materials and components, weapons, food, and medicine. You could find almost anything here, including whatever they might need to help the Queen.
But that’s not where they went – where in the world was Mantis taking them?
The small group picked their way through the fort until they reached the top level. The entire floor was swarming with guards. It was obvious by the way they held themselves that these fighters were the elite, far superior to the rabble they encountered outside. If Cloudhawk didn’t know Mantis any better, he might be afraid the assassin was getting ready to sell them out.
Mantis fed a pair of bodyguards a line about his identity and purpose. They seemed content with this explanation and led them through the hallways.
Eventually, they stopped in front of an office.
Cloudhawk had never seen a room this large before in his life. It was even larger than the Queen’s former chambers and was decorated with tidy furnishings. There was a lengthy couch where a middle-aged woman sat with her small son. On a nearby table, there was a collection of four or five brightly colored fruits – a luxury among luxuries in the wasteland.
There were also two people dressed in doctor’s attire hard at work.
Then, as they looked on, a burly figure appeared amongst the small crowd. Cloudhawk and the Queen exchanged a frightened glance.
Cloudhawk gripped his staff tightly and grit his teeth. “Leonine? Fuckin’ you again!”
Leonine didn’t respond right away. He looked at the woman on the couch and spoke to her first. “Go and take a look.”
She knew how to act in delicate company and left the small gathering.
Once she’d gone, the slaver returned his attention to Cloudhawk and the Bloodsoaked Queen. “Starting now, we’re a team. I’m here to help you do whatever needs to be done.”
Cloudhawk snorted like he’d heard a funny joke. “You? Help us? What a goddamn joke!”
“He is serious.” Hydra appeared from outside. “Leonine is under my command. He works for me. From now, on he’ll be part of your group.”
Cloudhawk stared at Hydra incredulously.
Hydra went on unperturbed. “Listen, those bastard mutants are scouring the outpost looking for you. They’re ordering my people around as they please and fuckin�
� up my territory – exploiting me and my resources like they own the goddamn place. I am the leader of this outpost and I’m not going to put up with this bullshit. We may not have the same goals, but we have the same enemy. I need you, and you need me. Am I wrong?”
Cloudhawk was forced to agree. Without question, Leonine’s addition to their team added real combat power.
Hydra had taken charge of Leonine’s wife and children. They lived in the fort, but more like hostages than guests. Leonine wouldn’t dare betray Hydra, for it would mean putting his family in danger.
No one could have anticipated the twists and turns that brought them to this place. A new team had been assembled.
For days, Cloudhawk had fled from one place to another with the Bloodsoaked Queen, and goddamn was he tired of it! Now, he had Hydra’s help, along with Leonine’s and Mantis’s assistance. He finally felt like he could take a breath!
1. This is a standard method of pattern differentiation and diagnosis in Chinese medicine. There are six pulse locations that tell the practitioner the condition of a patient’s organs. Here is a nice chart that explains the basics. When checking pulse we make a determination based on: location (cun, guan, chi), strength (strong, normal, weak), depth (superficial, normal, deep), speed (fast, slow, normal), rhythm (regular, irregular, regularly irregular, irregularly irregular), length (long, short, stunted), and several miscellaneous manifestations like sluggishness, scattered sensation, etc. Someone who is on the cusp of death for a condition like the Queen’s would likely have a very weak or almost impalpable pulse that feels ‘empty’ like there’s no blood, is deep, slow, and likely irregular as the heart fails. In the final moments before death, the pulse will suddenly become superficial and rapid, which in TCM we call the last light of the setting sun – the body gives a final burst of energy and then gives in.
65 Temporary Accommodations
In the barren, hostile wastelands, the presence of an oasis attracted a lot of attention, no matter how out of the way it was. Scavengers, sweepers, excavators… everyone fought for territory and water. They didn’t only have to fight their environment, but each other as well.
The Wastelander Page 48
