Angels and the Bad Man

by M. K. Gibson

  The sun was up and it was late morning already. Clearly the ship needed longer to be repaired than what Ahlray and Legion claimed.

  Flopping over, with my face in the snowy ground, I saw the pilot, Mandy, sitting by the remains of a campfire. She was relaxing in a portable folding chair with a digital book in one hand. An automatic plasma rifle rested beside her, next to her pilot’s helmet.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked again. “You were crying.” She had a pleasant smile as she regarded me.

  “No I wasn’t,” I lied reflexively.

  “It’s OK. A lot of people my husband bring in cry when they realize they’ve been caught. It’s natural. I heard you broke out of Flotsam? Wow, I would not want to be you once you get turned in.”

  “Your empathy is abundant,” I sighed, trying to roll to my back. I did my best to stretch my arms and give my legs enough room to move. No matter how I moved, I had barely an inch to flex my legs.

  “I’d quit squirming if I were you,” Mandy said.

  “You have to let me go. I have to get out of here. I have to save my people.”

  “And we have to get paid. Sorry hon, you’re shit out of luck,” Mandy said, setting her digital reader down. “Why don’t you just try and get some more rest. Cry a little more if you need to. The ship will be ready by this evening. It won’t take us long to get back to the city. By tonight, you’ll be back in Flotsam and we’ll be rich.”

  “If you all you care about is money, then I can pay you.”

  “Oh hon, please. We’re professionals. And sad to say, I’ve seen your account. You may have had money, but all your assets are frozen.”

  Shit. She was definitely married to Ahlray. Lovingly smug must be sexually transmitted. I knew it was a long shot, trying to buy my way free, but considering what I had available to me, it was my only recourse.

  “Can you do one thing for me then?”

  “What’s that?” Mandy asked.

  “Can you at least get a cigarette out of my pocket and light it for me?”

  Mandy smiled. “If you move, I’ll shoot you.”

  “I know.”

  She stood from the campfire and walked over to me. She reached into my coat pocket and fished out my nearly empty pack.

  Then she crushed them.

  “Smoking is bad for you. I heard you gave my husband a cigarette. Tsk tsk.”

  “Hey!” I yelled, reaching out towards Mandy.

  Mandy threw the crushed pack into the ashes of the campfire, then shot me in the face.

  ********

  When I awoke next, the sun hung low in the sky.

  Shit. Almost another day gone. Another day wasted and another day closer to Löngutangar’s end. I was shivering from being left in the cold. My stomach knotted in hunger and thirst.

  I smelled something horrible. As I opened my eyes, I saw I was lying on my side in a puddle of blood and vomit. My own, I assumed. It would be a really gross and elaborate prank if someone placed me in a pile of someone else’s bloody puke.

  But thinking about this particular pack of assholes, I wouldn’t put anything past them.

  I felt several loose teeth along with a broken nose and jaw. Stun setting or not, a blast at point-blank range was like getting kicked by a mule. The concussion must have been why I vomited.

  And to think, I thought she was the nice one. But considering what she did to my pack of smokes, I may have to kill her first.

  Collective?

  //ONLINE//

  So, how bad are we this time?

  //QUERY HOST//

  What?

  //DOES HOST GO OUT OF HOST’S WAY TO INFLICT HARM UPON HOST’S SELF?//

  I almost laughed. No, but it does seem like it, doesn’t it?

  //IT IS COLLECTIVE’S ASSESSMENT THAT HOST WISHES TO SUFFER - REASONS REMAIN OBFUSCATED TO COLLECTIVE//

  No, Collective, I don’t do this on purpose. But the world is a rough place. And taking care of others seems to come with an amount of required suffering. But through it all, you’ve always been there. I thank you.

  //GRATITUDE ACCEPTED - COLLECTIVE FINDS PLEASURE IN KNOWING HOST - COLLECTIVE’S EARLIER QUERY WAS AN ATTEMPT AT TESTICULAR FRACTURE HUMOR//

  You were breaking my balls?

  //AFFIRMATIVE - HOST’S PATELLAS SUFFERED SMALL-CALIBER GUNSHOT WOUNDS WITH SEVERE TRAUMA TO THE ACL AND MCL - LIMITED MOBILITY WITH SEVERE PAIN AVAILABLE - HOST WILL REQUIRE ADDITIONAL TIME TO WALK UNHINDERED//

  What about my face?

  //HOST WAS NEVER CONSIDERED COMELY TO BEGIN WITH//

  Great.

  //HOST’S OUTWARD APPEARANCE HUMOR REJECTED//

  No, the joke was fine. It’s just been a long day, Collective. How about we skip to the final diagnosis? How soon until we kick all these bastards in their collective taints, steal this ship, fly back to get TJ, then get the hell out of here and save our people?

  //QUERY//

  Yes?

  //DOES HOST HAVE AN ARMY IN HOST’S RECTUM COLLECTIVE WAS UNAWARE OF//

  No?

  //THEN HOST WILL HAVE LITTLE CHANCE OF COMPLETING SAID MISSION - HOST’S FUNCTIONS ARE FAR BELOW NORMAL- COLLECTIVE REQUIRES ADDITIONAL BASE MATERIALS FOR CONVERSION - AT PRESENT HOST COULD POSSIBLY BE HOBBLED//

  Shit. What can we do?

  //PERMISSION TO PULL FROM EMERGENCY RESERVES FOR HOST PRESERVATION//

  Damn. Damn damn damn. The Collective needed to burn through the rest of my stored body fat and start dissecting my lean muscle. Ever since prison, I wasn’t exactly the poster child for nutrition. The food on the island kept us alive, but I wasn’t packing the extra mass I normally did. Hell, it’d been a couple of days since I ate.

  But I needed to be as whole as possible to even have a chance. Go ahead, Collective. Start with the thigh muscle if you have to.

  //COLLECTIVE WILL ASSESS BEST LOCATION TO DRAW FROM - HOST ALREADY HAS APPENDAGES WHICH RESEMBLE POULTRY //

  A chicken legs joke? It was high school all over. I felt a warmth spread all over my body. The Collective was fast at work, drawing what it needed. Well, I guess there were worse things to complain about than a built-in dietary system.

  “You awake, asshat?” I heard Legion ask.

  “Yeah, I’m awake, asshole. Why don’t you go and stick your finger in a fusion cell and join your brother.”

  “Keep talking, tough guy. The contract states they want you alive. But nowhere does it say you need to have all your teeth.”

  “That’s enough,” I heard Ahlray say from beyond my vision. “Go get the ship’s weapon systems prepped. Mandy is already charting the course back to New Golgotha.”

  “You’re not the boss,” Legion challenged.

  “No, but I am lead on this contract. It’s my case, my ship and my fucking reputation. You had your shot and you got your head blown off. Twice.”

  “I owe him,” Legion said.

  “When it comes to this asshole, I’m the only one of us who’s shown any results. So back on the ship, prep the weapon systems and await takeoff, or you can walk your ass home.”

  “You’re walking on thin ice, big boy.”

  “And you’re boring me. Move.”

  Legion complied while grumbling under his breath, getting up and walking away towards the ship. Ahlray moved into my field of vision. His cybernetic legs squatted down next to me.

  “Sorry you had to hear that. I prefer professional courtesy. But when you work with a guy for so long, professionalism goes out the window. How you holding up, Baron?”

  “Been better,” I said. “Your wife threw away my smokes. No offense, but I kind of hate her.”

  “She also shot you in the face.”

  “I’m angrier about the smokes.”

  “Ha!” Ahlray barked out a laugh. “I bet. But I also wager you still have an emergency pack on you.”

  “Why, you want one?”

  “Oh, no,” Ahlray said with a wave of his giant mechanized hand. “The wife started checking my internal logs on a regular b
asis ever since I came back from that bar of yours with the scent of smoke on my breath.”

  “So much for matrimonial trust.”

  “Hah, it’s obvious you’ve never been married before. Trust but verify, Baron, trust but verify.”

  “So, what happens next?”

  “You’re going back to prison. They are going to—well, they are really going to work you over. You’re going to be made an example of. After that, who knows.”

  “And you’re OK with that?” I asked.

  “You’re a job, nothing more.”

  I looked at him. I looked through him. Past the smiling, pleasant face, I saw the core of modern humanity reflected back at me. Screw-you-before-you-screw-me. And in that moment I couldn’t help but think of Gh’aliss and my past, knowing I helped contribute to that ideology.

  Obviously it wasn’t the first time I was confronted with the new face of mankind. But perhaps, deep inside, I hoped that we as a species would rebel against the hate and become what we were capable of becoming. But if I remembered my Nietzsche correctly, maybe this was what we were always meant to be. The truest state of man is one where we embrace the self and reject the common good.

  “It’s time to go,” Ahlray said. Behind him, I heard the gunship’s engines humming louder. “Can you roll over for me?”

  “No,” I said. “If I’m just a job, then do your job.”

  The small act of rebellion was insignificant, but it was all I was capable of at the moment. I was frozen and broken. The last thing I wanted to do was make this prick’s day one iota easier.

  Ahlray picked me up as if I weighed nothing, throwing me over his shoulder so I was facing behind him. “You’re such a child when you’re losing.”

  If I had any fluid in my body, I would have pissed on him out of spite.

  Ahlray marched towards the ship and I bobbed along over his shoulder. Each of his steps sent searing pain down my legs, forcing my teeth to clench and my eyes to squint. As we approached the gunship’s open cargo hold, I noticed a coyote trailing quietly behind us.

  The creature darted from spot to spot silently, as if it were looking for something. With Ahlray’s stomping, he didn’t hear the beast. If his internal sensors picked it up, no doubt it was registered as a non-threat.

  I didn’t give the coyote much thought. That was until the small creature yipped, causing Ahlray to turn, looking towards the noise. As he did, the crafty creature darted past his blind side and sneaked on board the ship.

  As the coyote passed, it winked at me.

  Chapter Twenty

  Chimera

  Day Nine of The Wild Hunt

  They were behind him.

  And above him.

  Below him.

  He could hear their near-silent footfalls. Their yips, barks, growls, and moans. Their hunting songs were always on the horizon, as they had been for the last nine days. They were always there, just out of sight, yet their presence was always known. The Hunt’s constant wardrums never ceased pounding out the beat.

  The sound was maddening.

  The hunt was closing in on him.

  Yet he eluded them over and over. His cunning and experience were the only things allowing him to stay one step ahead. But his time was running out.

  As the sun set on the ninth day in Caern Hortus, the Land of Eternal Spring, he knew they would descend upon him when the last light fell.

  Leaping from branch to branch in the colossal oaks and yew trees, he avoided the ground lest his footfalls betray his position to the burrowing creatures no doubt below him. Ahead, he heard the growls and barks of the beasts that had outpaced him, lying in wait. To his flanks the trees themselves tightened, obeying the will of the wild Fae. Overhead, winged creatures flew scouting patterns.

  And behind him he heard the heavier beasts and entourage of the huntmaster approaching.

  This time, there was no escape. So instead of continuing the draining exercise in futility, he stopped. Lowering himself to the forest floor, he crossed his arms and waited.

  And, as predicted, when the last ray of light set and twilight was upon Caern Hortus, The Wild Hunt closed in. Ogres and trolls were the first to approach, their massive forms blocking off any possible exits. Alien-like elves with their large almond eyes and lanky forms stepped from the shadows bearing longbows and spears. Small winged pixies and fairies flitted about, radiating light and illuminating him in the darkness.

  He was tired. Tired of running and tired of being chased. But mostly, he was tired of existing. If this is the end, then let it be a glorious death, he thought.

  The ground rumbled as a massive chariot crested the worn path. Smaller trees and saplings bent or, in some cases, moved out of the way lest they be torn asunder. He was astonished to see that the chariot was not pulled by horses or any beast of burden.

  It was instead pulled by a single creature, easily fifteen feet tall, wearing thick, heavy, Fae-designed plate armor that shifted color depending on the angle from which it was viewed. The monster’s head was covered with a great horned helmet, obscuring the face with an angled visor. Glowing, silvery-blue eyes radiated from within the helmet.

  The monstrosity stopped and slowly reached up to its shoulders, deftly unfastening the chains it used to pull the chariot. Once it was no longer attached, the creature walked to the side of the chariot and extended an arm so that the vehicle’s single occupant could step down.

  He watched the huntmaster slowly descend. Whoever this was, they were enjoying the moment, relishing in the capturing of the prey and the final moments before the kill. The grandiose nature made him think this was somehow personal.

  Or, the huntmaster was a sadist.

  Hmm . . . considering he stood in the middle of the Fae realm, sentenced to death by The Wild Hunt, both possibilities seemed plausible. The gathered Fae began lowly and slowly chanting “Chi-mer-a, Chi-mer-a, Chi-mer-a.”

  The huntmaster, this Chimera, was unlike any Fae he had ever encountered. Humanoid and female, the huntmaster stood over six feet tall and while feminine, had a muscular quality to her physique. Her armor was ornate yet functional, a mix of leathers and strategically placed pieces of plate. Her features were difficult to make out from beneath her fur-rimmed hunter’s cloak and hood.

  Whoever, or whatever, this Chimera was, her aura was one of danger, even without her gigantic companion. It was fitting that she was selected to lead The Wild Hunt. Chimera raised a gauntleted hand, silencing the chants from the other Fae.

  “I must admit, I didn’t believe it when the Green Man said you came back here. Yet, here you are. I just want to know, why? Why come to this place? You knew you would die.”

  As she drew closer to ask her questions, he could see that her skin was dappled with shades of green, brown, and dark gray in seemingly random patterns. Her eyes and ears resembled those of an elf, but her pointed features and fang-like teeth denoted a more sinister lineage. Her hair was knotted in green and brown dreadlocks. She was . . . exotic, a mix of many Fae but of none.

  And she appeared to know him.

  Well . . . shit.

  “I can honestly say, I do not know why I am here,” he said. “Yet here I am. Let us get on with this.”

  “Soon, soon,” Chimera said. She continued to walk towards him while the massive golem-like armored giant loomed behind her, blocking out all residual light. “I just wanted to look at you one last time. And to let you look at me. See what your decision brought about. See what became of me. Did you ever think about me?”

  “I honestly have no idea who you are,” he said.

  Chimera pulled back her hood, exposing her face. It was clear that whatever she was then, it was not her original form. Her mismatched coloration and facial extremities appeared to have been added over time. She was not born into this form, but rather turned.

  It still did not change the fact that he had no idea who she was.

  Chimera drew closer, into his personal zone. She drew so close he was ab
le to pick up her scent, one of nature. A scent of one who hunted in the great expanses. Chimera looked him over, waiting for his response. When he had none to give other than indifference, realization crossed her face, and her features hardened.

  “You are not he.”

  “No,” Grimm’s double confirmed. “I am not.”

  “A decoy then. Clever.”

  “He thought so as well.”

  “I’d ask how it is possible, as he cannot draw upon his magic in this place. But, the man I knew was always doing the impossible,” Chimera said as she backed up a couple of steps. “Instead, I will ask, how would you like to die?”

  The double shrugged. “It does not matter to me. I did my job. Good luck tracking him.”

  “If you are here, then he traveled through the Autumn Lands. But even he could not make it to the gate before the season changed. So, he is going north, to Caern Frigia.”

  Chimera walked away, turning her back to the double, pausing only to place one hand on the armored form of her gigantic companion.

  “Do you know what the saddest part of leading The Wild Hunt is?”

  “I do not know,” the double said. “But I suspect you will tell me nonetheless.”

  “When you know where your prey is going, it takes a bit of the thrill away. But thanks to you, the chase is a little more exciting.”

  “I am glad to be of service. To him, and to you. May I ask something?”

  Chimera turned back, leveling her glowing yellow eyes on him. “It is not the normal conduct, but I am intrigued. Ask your question.”

  “What is he to you?” the double asked. “It is obvious we—he—has a past with you. As I do not have those memories, either your relationship came after, or they were not imparted unto me.”

  Chimera smiled and nodded to her silent behemoth ally.

  The gigantic being brought a massive armored fist down atop the double’s head. The impact liquefied his skull on impact, ripped through his torso, and collapsed his body cavity. The body dropped to the ground in a shattered pile of viscera while The Hunt roared in excitement.