by Andrew Novak
“I see,” he said to himself after they were out of sight, “it was a bad idea, hiding in the attic.” Got to hide closer to the ground in a place where the animals fly. Good thing they weren’t fiery creatures… but I always knew Alterra was cooler than reality.”
* * *
At dawn, he returned to the building where the bat-like animals had taken him by surprise.
They’d had large eyes, typical of nocturnal animals. He could only hope that they weren’t active during the day, like ordinary bats. But he could only test this theory in person. We’d soon see.
Jack cautiously peeked through the doorway and hopped back. He thought over what he saw. Nothing dangerous in there, it seemed. He looked again. In the middle of the room was the gaping hole, surrounded by fragments of rotting boards and splotches of dried slime. Dampness rose up from the hole.
He went up to the attic and gathered his bag, which was a little worse for the wear but they hadn’t managed to rip it. He also found Egghead’s device. The only thing to do was wait until the sun was a bit higher and then he could head for the Finger.
Jack sat on the doorstep of the ruined house, lit a cigarette and waited. He wanted to be done with all this, soon, and felt a little unsettled when he recalled how many of those things circled the ruins at night. Would this be all he had to deal with?
Finally, he decided that the sun was high enough, stood up, tossed his backpack over his shoulder, and made for the skyscraper. The closer he got, the more dramatic the damage to the lower floors became. Now it was clear that it was made by an explosion originating somewhere in the basement, deep under the building, because the wall was turned from the inside out. The Finger, however, held fast. Apparently, it was built to withstand any event, like an explosion in the basement. But what did that matter? Right now, it was more important to get up to the seventeenth floor as quickly as possible, locate the laboratory, and collect Clive’s item.
Jack headed for the breach. No winged creatures in sight. He scrambled right up the fallen concrete slabs to the second floor. The walls here were quite thick, come to think of it… no, it didn’t matter. Hugging the wall, eyes alert, he walked down the hallway. A thick layer of something dry and white crunched underfoot. Jack guessed it was batcrap. Oddly, the beasts themselves stank worse than their droppings.
The corridor led to a spacious area with heavy double leaf doors. The elevators. A stairwell had to be somewhere nearby. Jack reached the end of the area and looked around a corner. There it was. Jack began the long climb, listening and trying to step so that the white gunk under his feet didn’t crunch too loudly. More importantly, he couldn’t lose count of the floors he’d already passed. So, he counted, as well.
Exits out of the stairwell were closed off with steel-plated doors. On the fourth floor, he came across the carcass of a dead animal. The kind with wings. Jack finally saw what he was dealing with. Indeed, it was a bat. There wasn’t much of it left. These critters clearly didn’t have an aversion to cannibalism. The bay was lying over the steps, wings spread wide, tattered like beggar’s rags. These wings took up half a flight of stairs, over a ten-foot wingspan, it seemed. The upturned face, vaguely resembling a dog’s, with widely spaced, pointed ears was oriented toward the ceiling, like its huge bulging eyes were carefully studying the cobwebs and cracks.
Jack poked at the body with his toe and it slowly rolled down a few steps, revealing white ribs jutting out of a gutted ribcage. The thing must have weighed fifty pounds. No more, even at its best, and not half-eaten by its brethren. Otherwise, a heavier animal wouldn’t have be able to fly. The door on this floor was ripped off its hinges and Jack looked down the corridor. Empty, except for dust and excrement. Okay… Well, moving on. With each floor he passed, Jack whispered the number to keep count. Then he listened. Nothing but the rustle of wind. A draft swept through the Middle Finger, entering through the broken windows. Dust swirled lightly in the air.
The door to the seventeenth was closed. Jack gave it a push. Locked? Or just rusty hinges? He adjusted his backpack straps, drew out the revolver, took the spear in the other hand, and kicked the door hard. Something crunched and small metal piece on the other side broke off, clanged on the floor, and the door gave way. Then Jack heard rustling and a quiet scratching, like two rough surfaces rubbing together. He kept still for a few minutes. When all was quiet on the other side, Jack nudged the door open with his boot and pressed his eye to the slit.
The creatures were here, though he didn’t realize it right away. He only saw filthy bags hanging at evenly-spaced intervals from the ceiling. Then he understood. They were overgrown bats. They were hanging upside down with their wings folded around their bodies. Clawed feet clung to the light fixtures. One slowly turned its head, extricated from under the leather bag made by its wings. Huge eyes blinked dully at the light. The others, apparently, were out for the count.
At the opposite end of the hallway was a door, exactly as Clive had said. Beyond it was a corridor with walls covered in white plastic. Jack waited until the bat tucked its head away again and slowly, lowering his boots carefully on the layer of dry, white droppings, went down the corridor. Coming up to the first hanging bag, he pressed up against the wall. The backpack slightly hindered his movement, but Jack squeezed past without disturbing the animal. Then another, and the next.
There were doors to the left and right. If they were open, Jack saw fragments of furniture, shattered cabinet glass scattered around bizarre contraptions, instruments and bundles of rotten paper. Heh, it might be worth his time to dig around here. He could probably find some interesting stuff…
When he was three quarters of the way to the lab, the restless bat shifted again, poking its muzzle out from under the wrinkled skin of its saggy folded wings. The creature ran its glassy eyes over the room, but saw nothing. Its nostrils fluttered, toothy jaws opened wide, and Jack, without thinking twice, and drove the spear into the mouth. He underestimated his strength. For an animal of its size, it was incredibly light. The blow ripped it from the fixture and flung it to the wall, its teeth clacking against the blade tied to the end of the stick.
Instantly, the corridor came alive. Bats everywhere fell from the ceiling, crashed together in their attempts to fly, and bounced off the floor, screeching in frustration. Jack, covering his head with his hands, rushed past storm of beating wings, clawed paws, and grinning snouts. He burst into the corridor sheathed in white plastic, slamming the door behind him and leaning against it. From behind the door, the animals screeched and flapped their wings, claws scraping on the walls… A couple of times, heavy bodies beat against the door, but it didn’t budge. Jack slowly and carefully turned the knob of the lock. The bolt clicked and he stepped from the door.
As he backed away, he kept the spear tip aimed at the entrance until he was sure it was secure, then turned around. The second door was made of heavy steel with an electronic lock. Which was, fortunately, unlocked. The door itself stood half open. It was impossible for him to move, even a little. Most likely, it worked with a servomotor that had shut off mid-process.
It was a tight fit, but Jack squeezed through into the next room. The single, tiny window barely allowed light into the room. Surprisingly, the glass was still intact. Shatterproof, probably. The concrete walls were bare, the shelving nearly empty. Two skeletons in tattered clothing rested on the floor in the corner. One was lying face down, legs splayed, hands wrapped around its skull. The bones had since scattered, but it gave the impression that he had died clutching his temples. The other was hunched over, sitting against the wall, something resembling a weapon lying across his knees. Jack had never seen anything like it before, except for the drawing on the sheet that Clive had given him. This was exactly what was drawn there. Yes! The very thing Jack came all this way through the Blighted Wasteland. This was it!
And this was clearly a weapon. It had a very distinctive stock and the hilt under the bony left hand was notched to make holding it easier. Even
something like a trigger in the usual place where a trigger would be. Neither the magazine or bolt were anywhere to be found.
Of course, it was a weapon. Why else would anyone these days pay five hundred panbucks? Nothing else was so highly valued. How did it work? It was likely very powerful if the Seekers were willing to organize a campaign in Alterra and pay five hundred in reality.
Several levers and sliding gauges of unknown purpose where bolt carrier was supposed to be, a pair of cables in a corrugated metal braid running along a short barrel to a quadrangular bolt frame at its end. The frame was fitted with a lattice where a normal gun had a muzzle. Another cable was running from the breechblock and extended to a flat metal box, which hung like a knapsack on the back of the operator. If the weapon had an electric drive, then there was a battery in that backpack, Jack thought. He pulled the straps off the shoulders of the skeleton, and the bones crumbled with a whisper. Whatever it was, this wasn’t the time to sort it out. The battery was dead anyway, and it was unclear how to use it. He’d have to make his way to the stairs with what he had. Jack put the find in his backpack and swept his eyes around the poorly lit lab. A shame there was nothing else of value here.
Which meant that he could leave… except the only way out was filled with those winged beasts. It was best to leave right away, so he could put as much distance as possible between himself and the Finger.
Jack stood listening for a long time at the door leading to the long corridor. Outside, there was the rustle of wings and tapping, a screech here and there. Not sleeping. Bastards. There was another option, though. Jack pulled out Egghead’s device and pressed the button. And then the area behind the door exploded with sounds. The critters screeched, flapped their wings. Light bodies slammed against the walls with a knock… and all this flowed into a wild howl, a knock and a crash. Jack just in case, wedged his boot in the door.
If they looked like dogs and their brains worked in a similar fashion, then the subsonic sound should cause panic. However, after panicking, they wouldn’t be able to get out. That’s the trouble. The hallway was narrow and the only exits from the room were the windows. A panic-stricken bat wouldn’t have the wits to understand that it needed to fly out through a small opening.
And he had no idea how long the battery in this thing would last. Probably not long. Jack took a deep breath and flung open the door. The scene in the corridor was inconceivable. Giant bats were trying to fly away, beating against the ceiling and walls, but simply collided with one another. The snapped and scratched and squealed… Jack, setting the spear in front of him, rushed into the whirlwind of claws, jaws and flapping wings. The first to fall in his path he pushed aside with the shaft, then he found himself in the middle of screaming chaos. He simply tried to cover his face with his left hand, his right shoved wings and squealing muzzles away with the spear. Claws scratched along his sleeve. A creature fell onto its bent back, wings pounding the ground and, for a moment, Jack found himself enveloped in the webbed folds. He staggered to the wall, smashing the creature into concrete. He rushed on, blindly flailing the spear in front… In his left hand, Egghead’s device vibrated lightly.
Jack tore through two interlocked beasts, stumbled and, losing his balance, fell to his knees. Creatures hung from him, furiously flapping their wings… Jack noticed an open door nearby and fell, rather than crawled through it. The bats broke off and remained outside. He shoved the door closed with his foot and clicked the lock.
Jack looked around… Where was he now? There were white tiled walls, chipped sinks and, next to them, some plastic boxes. The floor was covered with broken mirror shards. He rose heavily to his feet and went over to the sinks. Outside the door, the bats were still raving. And Jack didn’t dare go into the hallway.
He walked across the room, broken glass clinking underfoot, to a narrow window and looked out at the sky and endless Wasteland. The seventeenth floor! Even if he managed to squeeze through the narrow opening, where would he go from there? It was pretty far to the ground.
Maybe he could go down a floor? But outside, hanging on a rope, he certainly wouldn’t be able to squeeze into the window. A shadow slid over Jack’s face. A few distraught bats had flown out and were now zipping around the Middle Finger. No, outside wasn’t an option. He was trapped here! And where? In the toilet!
He didn’t see a way out and the battery in the device was draining quickly… Jack just shook his head. There was a way out. There had to be. He just needed to find it…
Above his head was a grille leading to the ventilation system. Ha, his way out! Jack climbed up on the sink, pulled out his folding knife and began to loosen the screws that secured the grille plate to the wall. Behind it was a dusty chute made from metal sheets, stretching into the darkness. Jack squeezed his head and shoulders into the narrow space, kicked his feet, desperately scrabbling on the metal, raking piles of dust… and somehow managed to pull himself into the ventilation shaft. He crept along, elbows and knees knocking against the sides. The illuminated entry left behind, Jack made his way in the cramped quarters and dark. He sneezed, hitting his head on the metal, but continued to creep through the sweltering innards of the Middle Finger.
Suddenly the darkness parted before him, his hands lost their hold and he tumbled down. One floor down, he frantically caught hold of the metal edges of the ventilation channel and planted his foot. He just hung there for a moment, gathering his wits. Then climbed into the new duct and looked around. In the distance was a faint light, a grey smear in the pitch blackness. And Jack moved to the light. The restroom on the lower floor was exactly the same as the one he’d left on the seventeenth floor. Jack looked out the door… and came face to face with a bat, which clumsily hobbled down the hallway, dragging a twisted wing. Its ears twitched and it issued a squeaky squeal. Somewhere nearby wings clapped. Jack ran to the stairs, which were a short distance away. He kicked the crippled beast out of his way as he ran, fell out onto the landing, and slammed the door shut.
Behind the door, the lame bat squealed again… but Jack was already flying down the stairs, bounding down with all the speed he could muster. Don’t stumble, don’t fall.
Bright sunlight struck his eyes as he popped out onto the concrete slab at the ruined portion of the wall. He cleared it in two leaps, sprung from it like a trampoline and rolled on hard, dry earth, raising a cloud of dust.
He sprung up and ran from the Middle Finger and the score of shrilly howling bats circling overhead. In the daytime, they were blind, frightened by the infrasound, and panic forced them again and again to draw loops in the white hot sky.
Chapter Six
You Must Find Out Why
JACK WALKED all day, no stops. By evening, he was sure that he’d left the hunting ground of those animals that made their nest in the abandoned tower. At any rate, the Middle Finger no longer stood over the plain in its mockingly symbolic way. Now it become a barely visible tick mark, almost completely hidden in the dusty haze.
He found what remained of a concrete building to spend the night in. He couldn’t tell what the wreckage had been before the Gendemic. The important thing was that he managed to settle in among the corroded pieces of rebar at the top of a wall. Even if he didn’t fall asleep, he wouldn’t fall.
Jack chewed a piece of hardtack, washed it down with water from his canteen and dug out the weapon from his backpack. Interesting that he’d set aside Theokrist’s quest for this thing. It was a weapon, no question, but what did it do? No muzzle, no magazine… Jack aimed the bolt frame at the end of the barrel into the darkness and clicked the trigger. Something in his chest stirred. An unpleasant, disturbing feeling. Was it the machine working? It couldn’t be. It wasn’t even connected to the backpack battery. He put it back into his backpack and listened to his senses.
No, it wasn’t that. His stomach turned a little. He felt uneasy. What the hell? He never got sick, but suddenly his hands began to shake and his chest grew tight. As if he’d had too much to drink and
needed to vomit. Although, Jack had never had a problem with alcohol. He’d always been able to drink whatever was poured into his glass. Jack threw back his head and deeply breathed the dusty air of Blighted Wasteland into his lungs. Then did it a few more times. That helped a little. Everything was back to normal — the night, the stars, the silvery glow over the horizon where New Atrium lay.
Then the wind brought a coolness, the nausea passed, and Jack dozed off with thoughts of Gaerthon, Alterra and its gods in his head. When the sun appeared above the horizon, he descended from his perch and walked to the city.
As he approached the outskirts of the ghetto and the stench struck his nose, Jack again felt troubled. Well, that’s never happened before. The stink… that was just part of life in the ghetto. It never affected him like that before. But then Jack thought about Lisa waiting for him, and Gaerthon, and after that, the nausea either passed or he stopped paying attention to it. His legs carried him a bit faster. Here was his cluster, and the trailer. The door was locked.
Jack tried to put a smile on his scarred face and knocked. Silence. Lisa had probably been up all night in Alterra, Jack thought. Ran from the fiery monster, got tired and went to sleep. In Alterra without him? Well, he was going to give the little necromancer hell… Now he would prove that he could raise the dead, too.
Unlocking the door with his key, he quietly entered the trailer. She was in for a big surprise… But Lisa wasn’t there. Jack locked the door and looked around. Oddly, her console was lying on the floor, but everything else was undisturbed. All personal belongings, all their stuff was in its place. What did it mean?
Did she go out for some necessity? But why was the console on the floor? Lisa never left it there. Jack sat down on the cot… Then reached for a headset and entered the Shell. He was hoping that Lisa left a note, but the only messages were from Clive and Egghead.
