It was that bastard’s crew again!
It was the same group they’d faced at Bleakfire Outpost, only now, it was larger. Their chief must have taken or recruited more sweepers and vehicles from the surrounding areas. They even had a pack of tamed wolves – eight or nine of them. That’s how Cloudhawk was being tracked.
“This motherfucker doesn’t know when to quit!” Cloudhawk was sick and fuckin’ tired of these sweeper assholes!
One of the Greenland soldiers had to make himself heard. “They must have already caught our scent. It’s not safe here. We need to go!”
“We can’t get away, not on two legs.” Cloudhawk’s eyes were fixed on the cars among the group of sweepers. There was a glint in his eye, and then, he said something that surprised the others. “Wait here. I’m gonna go steal a car.”
Steal a car? Was he fuckin’ joking?
He planned to abscond with one of their vehicles, right under the noses of a few hundred sweepers. How was his plan any different from suicide? But in reality, they were in a nasty spot, and a sufficiently fast car was the only thing that could help them escape these sweepers and everyone else out for blood.
“Relax, I got it under control.” Cloudhawk affixed the Bloodsoaked Queen’s mask to his face and pulled up his hood. He croaked at them through the mask as he slid down from the high ground, “Please wait for me here.”
This stretch of wasteland was peppered with boulders. Cloudhawk used them as cover, slowly inching closer to the sweeper group. He didn’t have his staff or his gun, forsaking both of them for a simple dagger this time. It was the knife the Queen had given him, the one she said was made back where she’d come from. It was fine craftsmanship, better than any of the crude weapons found in the wastelands.
Cloudhawk first determined the direction of the wind so he could find which side was leeward. Pressing himself against the northern side of a boulder, he tried to get a better look at his target.
He could tell right away that the several-hundred-strong sweeper contingent was overconfident. They certainly weren’t expecting a sneak attack, and due to the speed at which they moved forward, their formation was weak and haphazard. What caught Cloudhawk’s attention was the large vehicle situated in the rear of the group, a wastelands cargo truck covered in reinforced steel. Despite the fact that it was somewhat separated from the rest of their crew, there were still four or five sweepers hanging around.
They were getting closer.
Cloudhawk was hidden from their wolves’ keen noses so long as the wind kept steady in the opposite direction. Once they got close enough, he lifted his hand, and a small sandstorm arose.
Between the darkening sky and Cloudhawk’s sandstorm, the sweepers were finding it difficult to see. They were none the wiser as the wastelander slipped from cover, turned invisible, and began to creep through their ranks. Like an angel of death, he slowly snuck up on the very last sweeper in the crew. His target had no time to react. In a flash, his neck was opened, and Cloudhawk dragged his writhing body behind a nearby rock to die.
The Cloudhawk who stalked the sands now was completely different from the scavenger that crawled over it before. His time under Mantis’s tutelage was short, but he put the foundational skills he’d learned to good use. Taking advantage of the choking sands, Cloudhawk quickly dispatched five of his enemies – foes that would have taken a few chunks out of him had this been a fair fight.
There was no time to disguise himself as one of them, so instead, he pulled open the truck door and jumped in directly. Before the driver knew what was happening, Cloudhawk silenced him with a thrown dagger that lodged right in his voice box.
“All good!”
As he took up position in the driver’s seat, Cloudhawk was surprised at how smoothly it’d gone. His foot hit the pedal, and suddenly, the trundling vehicle shot off like a bat out of hell. Several sweepers were caught under its wheels and crushed to death.
“What’s going on?!”
“Where’s this car going?”
The sweeper chief was hollering abuses when suddenly, the truck turned. He saw the driver, a young boy – it was him!
“Grab him!”
The scythe-bearer and his men were stunned by the sight, for none of them could believe someone could sneak in right under their noses and steal a car. As Cloudhawk whipped through the host of sweepers, he swung the wheel back and forth, slithering through them like a serpent. Sweepers and boulders alike were crushed by the truck’s reinforced body. Nothing could stop it from tearing off into the distance.
“With me, follow him!”
When the sweepers snapped back to their senses, they gave chase almost instinctively. By then, the truck was already several hundred feet away whereas most of the sweepers were still on foot. By the time the chief’s orders were relayed and people started to react, Cloudhawk was already too far.
The cheeky wastelander pushed the gas pedal all the way to the floor, kicking up a plume of sand as he broke free from the sweepers. The distance between them was already stretching by the time they started to chase him. He picked up the remaining three Greenland warriors and headed west towards the setting sun as if the rippling orange orb of fire were their destination.
100 The Brutal Wastelands
The blood-red light of the setting sun painted the roiling sea of sand. Out in the wastelands, even dusk was swelteringly hot.
The sound of old engines rumbling was an analog of the anxiety and restlessness within the hearts of modern man. It was a world of blood and fire with cruelty and madness around every corner. At this moment, that madness was a group of more than ten vehicles tearing across the sands in a deadly game of chase.
Wasteland vehicles were cobbled together from whatever excavators could find. It didn’t matter whether it was the right part, whether it was aesthetically pleasing, or whether it was convenient. All that mattered was that the machine worked.
The truck Cloudhawk pilfered had a chassis of crude metal, and its body was composed of light but sturdy bones from unidentified wasteland behemoths welded together with slabs of steel. It looked like some nightmarish creature made of bones slithering over the dunes. Its cab was a mess of circuitry and pipes with no windshield to speak of. Stinging sand constantly pelted Cloudhawk’s face.
He didn’t know what any of the instruments on the dashboard in front of him meant. All he knew – all he needed to know – was how to turn the damn thing on and keep it moving!
One of the soldiers with him shouted over the din of the engine, “They’re catching up!”
The truck didn’t have a rear view mirror so Cloudhawk didn’t know what was going on behind them. But he did have ears, and the sound of screaming engines was getting closer. Frantically, he began to pull on levers and twist knobs interspersed through the mess of wires, hoping something would help.
Bang-bang-bang!
The truck shook violently and smoke began to belch out of the exhaust pipes. The wheels kicked into high gear, kicking up a winding cloud of yellow sand behind them.
The whooping yells of the sweepers chased them from behind.
Regardless of their boost in speed, the other cars were still closing the distance. Figures popped out of the cars bearing spears and hooks, every one of them glaring at the truck with demented and twisted features. They looked like madmen, ready to give their lives for glory.
But they weren’t insane. It was the wastelands that were insane. It was a whole crazy world they lived in!
One of the buggies, retrofitted with spikes like that of a hedgehog, pulled up behind them. The driver flipped a lever and bolts fired out of his car that lodged themselves in Cloudhawk’s bone truck like nails. Chains attached to the bolts tightened and the metal of both vehicles groaned in protest.
As a result, the truck suddenly jerked as its speed was cut. The inertia almost sent Cloudhawk hurdling through the missing windshield, but he grabbed whatever he could and managed to steady himself before being flu
ng from the vehicle. The barbed bolts from the spiked buggy were deeply embedded in Cloudhawk’s truck and were slowing it down.
“Kill! KILL!”
A sweeper popped out from within the hedgehog’s cab with a large javelin in hand. He heaved it at the bone truck. Instead of a metal head, the javelin had a wrapped bottle affixed to its end, filled with rat’s blood, oil, and other combustible materials.
Boom!
A ball of fire swallowed the rear of the truck. Cloudhawk could feel it shake and start to break apart. At least one of their tires was blown!
The sweeper pulled out a second javelin and drew back for another toss. Cloudhawk grit his teeth and yanked the wheel, sending them peeling off in another direction. The sudden force flipped the hedgehog off balance and flung it to the side, still connected by chains. It shattered like a house of building blocks, sending debris in all directions. The sweeper who had a javelin leveled at them had half of his body demolished, crushed by the impact. A series of beautiful, eye-stabbing explosions followed as all of the remaining javelins detonated.
Cloudhawk fought to get the truck back under control. The remains of the hedgehog buggy rolled along behind him, on fire and flinging burning slag every which way. Cloudhawk didn’t have time to catch his breath, for just then, two agile lizards and their riders pulled up on either side.
One of them chucked a bottle into the cab.
Roooar! Everything was engulfed in fire!
Luckily, the invisibility cloak Cloudhawk wore wasn’t flammable. Otherwise, the fire would have cooked him medium-rare. Unfortunately, the Greenland survivors weren’t as lucky. One of them found himself in the middle of a lake of fire and, screaming, flung himself out of the truck to escape the flames. He tumbled through the air like a burning moth, hit the sand, and began to roll. The sweeper vehicles coming up from behind ruthlessly ran him over half a dozen times.
The lizards themselves were equipped with small flamethrowers that constantly emitted fire, which their rider used to light the bombs. Their riders pulled out a second set of fire grenades from their pockets and prepared to light them.
Roaring in anger, Cloudhawk gripped the steering wheel with his burned hands and pull it to the side. His hefty truck slammed into the lizard on his left, knocking both beast and rider over and crushing them beneath the truck’s wheels. It was difficult to tell from the smear of red behind them which parts were human and which were beast.
Boom!
The sweeper’s bomb ignited all the explosive material he’d kept in his pockets, turning his corpse into a pillar of flame. Sand kicked up by the explosion rattled against the left side of the bone truck, and the blast set almost half of it on fire. Another firebomb struck them from the right side, causing even more damage.
Depp drew back his bow and fired an arrow that pierced the fire-thrower through the chest. Like a puppet with its strings cut, the sweeper’s lifeless body was knocked off the lizard. It hit the ground some distance away with a sickening crunch.
“Kill them! For the master!”
The sweepers were incensed, caught in an insane bloodthirst that was hard to imagine. They continued to chase after the flaming bone truck, getting close enough to fire off more chain bolts. Like a brutal version of tug-of-war, the two sides heaved against one another.
Depp kicked open the truck’s ruined door and leaned out, firing his bow at the cars behind. His arrow hit a tire and the car careened out of control. It flipped on its side and rolled into another car. The chains that affixed them to the truck dragged the cars along behind, but while it destroyed those vehicles, the increased drag allowed the rest to get closer.
The flail-wielding sweeper chief came bounding up beside them on his lizard. When Depp spotted him, he let loose with another arrow, but it was not aimed at the portly killer. Instead, the arrow ripped through his lizard mount’s head.
The chief was skilled, and as his steed was struck down from beneath him, he lunged forward. He grabbed the truck and scrambled to the top in one fluid motion. In less than a second, flail waving, he charged at the driver’s seat with a deafening roar.
Thud!
The chief’s spiked ball and chain whistled over Cloudhawk’s head, barely scraping his scalp before embedding itself in the mismatched instrument panel in front of him. Immediately, sparks filled the cab.
“You drive!”
Cloudhawk dragged the remaining Greenland warrior into the driver’s seat. He grabbed the flail’s chain, so when the chief yanked it back, he pulled Cloudhawk onto the truck’s top with it. The young warrior released the chain midflight, pulled his revolver from his waist, and fired.
The sweeper wasn’t slow, but at close range, the shots still struck his chest. However, his armor was hefty, and the small caliber bullets didn’t pack enough punch to cause damage.
Grinning hideously, the sweeper brought his flail back around. Cloudhawk met it with his exorcist rod.
The two of them fought as the truck rumbled along below them. Though the sweeper chief’s flail was a nasty weapon, he couldn’t build good momentum with the ground below him in constant motion. Cloudhawk juked and dodged and finally got a clear shot off at the sweeper’s helmet. The impact forced the chief back, and that’s when Cloudhawk’s exorcist rod jabbed forward.
Armor and flesh split as the staff’s sharp end found its target!
A power comparable to a sledgehammer strike flung the chief from the top of the truck. Not a moment later, bullets and arrows started whizzing by Cloudhawk’s head. He couldn’t linger out here in the open, but just as he was preparing to swing back into the car, two explosive javelins struck. One of them hit the fuel tank.
B-O-O-M!
Cloudhawk felt weightless. The javelin had pierced the truck’s fuel tank and ignited the gas inside. A massive blast rose from below him, and the back half of the truck was pitched up several feet, sending debris everywhere.
The sudden force of the explosion kicked the truck up as well as all the cars connected to it, flipping them all. They tumbled over the dunes like so many discarded toys, leaving explosions and twisted metal in their wake. Sand and smoke filled the air like a rain from hell.
Peace settled after this chaotic sequence.
Survivors were rare in catastrophic suicide attacks like this, but Cloudhawk had been thrown from the wreckage. He immediately poured his energy into his cloak to try and break his fall, but even landing in soft sand at this speed would be deadly.
It all happened as fast as a thunderclap.
Cloudhawk felt like he was struck in the head. The whole world spun out of control as he was flung through the air. He was rotating so fast that it felt like the centrifugal force was scrambling his innards.
Then, just as he was about to hit the ground –
- Everything went black. It was like he cut through reality to enter a dream.
Cloudhawk felt himself floating in the air, flying though he had no wings. Space around him felt thick like mud and lifted him up. As he floated along, he could feel himself striking countless small things, things he could neither see nor touch.
Eventually, a burning sensation emerged all throughout his body. It was painful enough that it brought Cloudhawk back from the brief coma he’d been in. With great effort, he struggled to his feet and surveyed the scene. Wreckage stretched every which way: bits of lizard, car, human… sand and blood, fire and iron. It was a scene of complete devastation!
To Cloudhawk, it felt like every bone in his body had shattered. However, what was fortunate was the reality that he hadn’t actually been badly wounded. That certainly wasn’t the case for the bone and metal truck he’d tried to steal, which could hardly be called slag at this point. He didn’t know whether Depp or the other Greenland soldier was still alive.
But the fight wasn’t over! Sweepers were still approaching.
The one leading cast a blurry silhouette through the sand and smoke, but his weapon was unmistakable. The scythe’s blade glimm
ered from the fires of the wreckage, like the eyes of death peering through the darkness. It marched his way, promising a bloody end.
101 Mercy Gets You Killed
Cloudhawk tried to shake the fuzziness from his head and eyes.
The only way he was going to escape was if he dealt with this scythe-wielding fucker. The other sweepers would arrive soon, and once he was surrounded, it would be difficult to break free. He had to put an end to his enemy quickly!
The sweeper chieftain fixed him with a burning, hateful gaze.
This child was more troublesome than he looked, fighting tenaciously even under these conditions. In addition to his supernatural strength and skill, he also seemed to possess supernatural luck. Even without the abilities of a demon hunter, the kid was a threat. If he honed his skills for twenty or so years, he could probably become one of the strongest humans in the wastelands. It made the sweeper hate him even more.
He was a child of the wastes, with tremendous potential, who decided to throw his lot in with those damn demon hunters. Because of him, the Caliph’s dream of unifying this barren landscape was crushed. Now, they were forsaken to an eternity of chaos and strife.
Thinking about future prospects deepened the chieftain’s seething anger. Without the Caliph to lead them, the sweepers were nothing, synonymous with hideousness and evil – relegated to the lowest caste in society.
Ruined. Everything was ruined. All because of the demon hunters!
The sweeper leader harnessed all of that resentment and turned it into power. Like a howling banshee, he raced through the sandstorm with his scythe at the ready, prepared to cut all the wastelands in two.
Cloudhawk lifted his exorcist rod to defend himself. He was met with a harsh blow.
The charge was so intense that it knocked him back several feet and left tranches in his wake. A sharp pain ran along his arms before they went numb from the impact. His fingers felt like they were nearly broken off.
He wasn’t given an opportunity to catch his breath. The silver light of the scythe blade carved an arc through the air!
The Wastelander Page 70
